"Swear on, sir! let the child hear your oaths! Let my blessed child, who
is too ill to sit at table and picks her bite! sweetbread on her sofa,--
which her poor mother prepares for her, Mr. Pendennis,--which I cooked
it, and gave it to her with these hands,--let her hear your curses and
blasphemies, Clive Newcome! They are loud enough."
"Do let us have a quiet life," groans out Clive; and for me, I must
confess, I kept my eyes steadily down upon my plate, nor dared to lift
them until my portion of cold beef had vanished.
No further outbreak took place until the appearance of the second
course, which consisted, as the ingenious reader may suppose, of the
plum-pudding, now in a grilled state, and the remanent of mince-pies from
yesterday's meal. Maria, I thought, looked particularly guilty as these
delicacies were placed on the table: she set them down hastily, and was
for operating an instant retreat.
But the Campaigner shrieked after her, "Who has eaten that pudding? I
insist upon knowing who has eaten it.
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