'Nothing at all.'

The client bit his nails, and pondered again.

'And I am not even personally safe in England? You hold to that,
do you?'

'In no part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,'
replied Mr. Snitchey.

'A mere prodigal son with no father to go back to, no swine to
keep, and no husks to share with them? Eh?' pursued the client,
rocking one leg over the other, and searching the ground with his
eyes.

Mr. Snitchey coughed, as if to deprecate the being supposed to
participate in any figurative illustration of a legal position.
Mr. Craggs, as if to express that it was a partnership view of the
subject, also coughed.

'Ruined at thirty!' said the client. 'Humph!'

'Not ruined, Mr. Warden,' returned Snitchey. 'Not so bad as that.
You have done a good deal towards it, I must say, but you are not
ruined. A little nursing - '

'A little Devil,' said the client.

'Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, 'will you oblige me with a pinch of
snuff? Thank you, sir.'