"Now comes t'other end of the thing, Gammon! You know every promise of marriage has two ends--one joins the heart, and t'other the pocket; _out_ heart, _in_ pocket--so _have at him_, Gammon--have at him, by Jove!" He rose up and rubbed his hands as he stood before the fire. "Breach of promise--thundering damages--devilish deep purse--special jury--broken heart, and all that! I wish he'd written her--by the way--more letters! Adad, I'll have a shot at him by next assizes--a writ on the file this very day! What d'ye think on't, friend Gammon, between ourselves?" quoth Mr. Quirk, heatedly. "Why, my dear sir--to tell you the truth--aren't you really well out of it? He's a miserable little upstart--he'd have made a wretched husband for so superior a girl as Miss Quirk." "Ay--ay! ay! She _is_ a good girl, Gammon--there you're right; would have made the best of wives--my eyes, (between ourselves!) how that'll go to the jury! Gad, I fancy I see'em--perhaps all of'em daughters of their own." "Looking at the thing calmly, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, gravely--apprehensive of Mr. Quirk's carrying too far so very absurd an affair--"where's the _evidence_ of the promise?--Because, you know, there's certainly _something_ depends on that--eh?" "Evidence? Deuce take you, Gammon! where are your wits? Evidence? Lots--lots of it! A'n't there I--her father? A'n't I a competent[31] witness? Wait and see old Caleb Quirk get into the box. I'll settle his hash in half a minute." "Yes--if you're believed, perhaps." "_Believe_ be----! Who's to be believed, if her own father isn't?" "Why, you may be too much swayed by your own feelings!" "_Feelings_ be----! It's past all that; he has none--so he must pay, for he _has_ cash! He ought to be made an example of!" "Still, to come to the point, Mr. Quirk, I vow it quite _teases_ me--this matter of the evidence"---- "Evidence? Why, Lord bless my soul, Gammon," quoth Quirk, testily, "haven't _you_ had your eyes and ears open all this while? Gad, what a crack witness you'd make! A man of your--your intellect--serve a friend at a pinch--and in a matter about his daughter? Ah, how often you've seen'em together--walking, talking, laughing, dancing, riding--writ in her album--made her presents, and she him. _Evidence?_ Oceans of it, and to spare! Secure Subtle--and I wouldn't take £5,000 for my verdict!" "Why, you see, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, very seriously--"though I've striven my utmost these six months to bring it about, the artful little scamp has never given me the least thing that I could lay hold of, and _swear_ to."