Heaven forbid! Besides; how, Mr Tigg,' continued Pecksniff even more gravely and impressively than he had spoken yet, 'how could Mr Chuzzlewit be prevented from having these peculiar and most extraordinary confidences of which you speak; the existence of which I must admit; and which I cannot but deplore--for his sake?
Consider, my good sir--' and here Mr Pecksniff eyed him wistfully--'how very much at random you are talking.' 'Why, as to that,' rejoined Tigg, 'it certainly is a difficult question.' 'Undoubtedly it is a difficult question,' Mr Pecksniff answered.

As he spoke he drew himself aloft, and seemed to grow more mindful, suddenly, of the moral gulf between himself and the creature he addressed.
'Undoubtedly it is a very difficult question.

And I am far from feeling sure that it is a question any one is authorized to discuss.

Good evening to you.' 'You don't know that the Spottletoes are here, I suppose ?' said Mr Tigg.
'What do you mean, sir?
what Spottletoes ?' asked Pecksniff, stopping abruptly on his way to the door.
'Mr and Mrs Spottletoe,' said Chevy Slyme, Esquire, speaking aloud for the first time, and speaking very sulkily; shambling with his legs the while.

'Spottletoe married my father's brother's child, didn't he?
And Mrs Spottletoe is Chuzzlewit's own niece, isn't she?
She was his favourite once.