Snitchey; at your referee, at the keeper of your secrets, at the
man you trust; at your other self, in short?'

The habitual association of Self with Craggs, occasioned Mr.
Snitchey to look in that direction.

'If you can look that man in the eye this night,' said Mrs.
Snitchey, 'and not know that you are deluded, practised upon, made
the victim of his arts, and bent down prostrate to his will by some
unaccountable fascination which it is impossible to explain and
against which no warning of mine is of the least avail, all I can
say is - I pity you!'

At the very same moment Mrs. Craggs was oracular on the cross
subject. Was it possible, she said, that Craggs could so blind
himself to his Snitcheys, as not to feel his true position? Did he
mean to say that he had seen his Snitcheys come into that room, and
didn't plainly see that there was reservation, cunning, treachery,
in the man? Would he tell her that his very action, when he wiped
his forehead and looked so stealthily about him, didn't show that
there was something weighing on the conscience of his precious
Snitcheys (if he had a conscience), that wouldn't bear the light?
Did anybody but his Snitcheys come to festive entertainments like a
burglar? - which, by the way, was hardly a clear illustration of
the case, as he had walked in very mildly at the door. And would
he still assert to her at noon-day (it being nearly midnight), that
his Snitcheys were to be justified through thick and thin, against
all facts, and reason, and experience?

Neither Snitchey nor Craggs openly attempted to stem the current