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‘
With
great
pleasure
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Tupman
.
The
stranger
filled
,
and
emptied
.
‘
I
should
very
much
like
to
go
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
,
resuming
the
subject
of
the
ball
,
‘
very
much
.
’
‘
Tickets
at
the
bar
,
Sir
,
’
interposed
the
waiter
;
‘
half
-
a
-
guinea
each
,
Sir
.
’
Mr
.
Tupman
again
expressed
an
earnest
wish
to
be
present
at
the
festivity
;
but
meeting
with
no
response
in
the
darkened
eye
of
Mr
.
Snodgrass
,
or
the
abstracted
gaze
of
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
he
applied
himself
with
great
interest
to
the
port
wine
and
dessert
,
which
had
just
been
placed
on
the
table
.
The
waiter
withdrew
,
and
the
party
were
left
to
enjoy
the
cosy
couple
of
hours
succeeding
dinner
.
‘
Beg
your
pardon
,
sir
,
’
said
the
stranger
,
‘
bottle
stands
—
pass
it
round
—
way
of
the
sun
—
through
the
button
-
hole
—
no
heeltaps
,
’
and
he
emptied
his
glass
,
which
he
had
filled
about
two
minutes
before
,
and
poured
out
another
,
with
the
air
of
a
man
who
was
used
to
it
.
The
wine
was
passed
,
and
a
fresh
supply
ordered
.
The
visitor
talked
,
the
Pickwickians
listened
.
Mr
.
Tupman
felt
every
moment
more
disposed
for
the
ball
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
countenance
glowed
with
an
expression
of
universal
philanthropy
,
and
Mr
.
Winkle
and
Mr
.
Snodgrass
fell
fast
asleep
.
‘
They
’
re
beginning
upstairs
,
’
said
the
stranger
—
‘
hear
the
company
—
fiddles
tuning
—
now
the
harp
—
there
they
go
.
’
The
various
sounds
which
found
their
way
downstairs
announced
the
commencement
of
the
first
quadrille
.
‘
How
I
should
like
to
go
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
again
.
‘
So
should
I
,
’
said
the
stranger
—
‘
confounded
luggage
—
heavy
smacks
—
nothing
to
go
in
—
odd
,
ain
’
t
it
?
’
