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office, or had a clean face, or took off the coarse apron, or looked out
of any one of the windows, or stood at the street-door for a breath of
air, or had any rest or enjoyment whatever. Nobody ever came to see
her, nobody spoke of her, nobody cared about her. Mr Brass had said
once, that he believed she was a 'love-child' (which means anything
but a child of love), and that was all the information Richard Swiveller
could obtain.
'
It's of no use asking the dragon,' thought Dick one day, as he sat
contemplating the features of Miss Sally Brass. 'I suspect if I asked
any questions on that head, our alliance would be at an end. I wonder
whether she is a dragon by-the-bye, or something in the mermaid
way. She has rather a scaly appearance. But mermaids are fond of
looking at themselves in the glass, which she can't be. And they have
a habit of combing their hair, which she hasn't. No, she's a dragon.'
'
Where are you going, old fellow?' said Dick aloud, as Miss Sally wiped
her pen as usual on the green dress, and uprose from her seat.
'
'
To dinner,' answered the dragon.
To dinner!' thought Dick, 'that's another circumstance. I don't believe
that small servant ever has anything to eat.'
'Sammy won't be home,' said Miss Brass. 'Stop till I come back. I
sha'n't be long.'
Dick nodded, and followed Miss Brass - with his eyes to the door, and
with his ears to a little back parlour, where she and her brother took
their meals.
'
'
Now,' said Dick, walking up and down with his hands in his pockets,
I'd give something - if I had it - to know how they use that child, and
where they keep her. My mother must have been a very inquisitive
woman; I have no doubt I'm marked with a note of interrogation
somewhere. My feelings I smother, but thou hast been the cause of
this anguish, my - upon my word,' said Mr Swiveller, checking himself
and falling thoughtfully into the client's chair, 'I should like to know
how they use her!'
After running on, in this way, for some time, Mr Swiveller softly
opened the office door, with the intention of darting across the street
for a glass of the mild porter. At that moment he caught a parting
glimpse of the brown head-dress of Miss Brass flitting down the
kitchen stairs. 'And by Jove!' thought Dick, 'she's going to feed the
small servant. Now or never!'
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