"Well!" said that good-natured emissary, after a full half-hour of
bootless attempts to bring him round to the question. "I have
been to Soho."
"To Soho?" repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. "Oh, to be sure!
What am I thinking of!"
"And I have no doubt," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was right in the
conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my advice."
"I assure you," returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, "that I
am sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father's
account. I know this must always be a sore subject with the family;
let us say no more about it."
"I don't understand you," said Mr. Lorry.
"I dare say not," rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing
and final way; "no matter, no matter."
"But it does matter," Mr. Lorry urged.
"No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't. Having supposed that there
was sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there
is not a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm
is done. Young women have committed similar follies often before,
and have repented them in poverty and obscurity often before.
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