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382 ‘Ah!’ cried Mr Mantalini, ‘interrupted!’ and whisk went the breakfast knife into Mr Mantalini’s dressing-gown pocket, while Mr Mantalini’s eyes rolled wildly, and his hair floating in wild disorder, mingled with his whiskers. ‘Alfred,’ cried his wife, flinging her arms about him, ‘I didn’t mean to say it, I didn’t mean to say it!’ ‘Ruined!’ cried Mr Mantalini. ‘Have I brought ruin upon the best and purest creature that ever blessed a demnition vagabond! Demmit, let me go.’ At this crisis of his ravings Mr Mantalini made a pluck at the breakfast knife, and being restrained by his wife’s grasp, attempted to dash his head against the wall--taking very good care to be at least six feet from it. ‘Compose yourself, my own angel,’ said Madame. ‘It was nobody’s fault; it was mine as much as yours, we shall do very well yet. Come, Alfred, come.’ Mr Mantalini did not think proper to come to, all at once; but, after calling several times for poison, and requesting some lady or gentleman to blow his brains out, gentler feelings came upon him, and he wept pathetically. In this softened frame of mind he did not oppose the capture of the knife--which, to tell the truth, he was rather glad to be rid of, as an inconvenient and dangerous article for a skirt pocket--and finally he suffered himself to be led away by his affectionate partner. After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies were informed that their services would be dispensed with until further notice, and at the expiration of two days, the name of Mantalini appeared in the list of bankrupts: Miss Nickleby received an intimation per post, on the same morning, that the business would be, in future, carried on under the name of Miss Knag, and that |