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"Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver," said Mr.

Lorry, reddening, "that I will hear no disrespectful word of that

young lady from any lips; and that if I knew any man--which I

hope I do not--whose taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so

overbearing, that he could not restrain himself from speaking

disrespectfully of that young lady at this desk, not even

Tellson's should prevent my giving him a piece of my mind."

The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr.

Stryver's blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his

turn to be angry; Mr. Lorry's veins, methodical as their courses

could usually be, were in no better state now it was his turn.

"That is what I mean to tell you, sir," said Mr. Lorry. "Pray let

there be no mistake about it."

Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and

then stood hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which

probably gave him the toothache. He broke the awkward silence by

saying: