'And are you going to leave, ma'am?' said Mrs Pipkin, prepared to have
her apron up to her eyes at a moment's notice. Where should she get
such another lodger as Mrs Hurtle,--a lady who not only did not inquire
about victuals, but who was always suggesting that the children should
eat this pudding or finish that pie, and who had never questioned an
item in a bill since she had been in the house!

'We'll say nothing about that yet, Mrs Pipkin.' Then Mrs Pipkin gave
utterance to so many assurances of sympathy and help that it almost
seemed that she was prepared to guarantee to her lodger another lover
in lieu of the one who was now dismissed.

CHAPTER LII - THE RESULTS OF LOVE AND WINE

Two, three, four, and even five o'clock still found Sir Felix Carbury
in bed on that fatal Thursday. More than once or twice his mother
crept up to his room, but on each occasion he feigned to be fast
asleep and made no reply to her gentle words. But his condition was
one which only admits of short snatches of uneasy slumber. From head
to foot, he was sick and ill and sore, and could find no comfort
anywhere. To lie where he was, trying by absolute quiescence to soothe
the agony of his brows and to remember that as long as he lay there he
would be safe from attack by the outer world, was all the solace
within his reach. Lady Carbury sent the page up to him, and to the
page he was awake. The boy brought him tea. He asked for soda and
brandy; but there was none to be had, and in his present condition he
did not dare to hector about it till it was procured for him.

The world surely was now all over to him. He had made arrangements for
running away with the great heiress of the day, and had absolutely
allowed the young lady to run away without him. The details of their
arrangement had been such that she absolutely would start upon her
long journey across the ocean before she could find out that he had
failed to keep his appointment. Melmotte's hostility would be incurred
by the attempt, and hers by the failure. Then he had lost all his
money,--and hers. He had induced his poor mother to assist in raising a
fund for him,--and even that was gone. He was so cowed that he was
afraid even of his mother. And he could remember something, but no
details, of some row at the club,--but still with a conviction on his
mind that he had made the row. Ah,--when would he summon courage to
enter the club again? When could he show himself again an