1 The whelp was presented, and took his chair.
2 It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this influence.
3 The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the whelp was obliged to go on.
4 The wretched whelp plucked up a ghastly courage, and began to grow defiant.
5 And still the forced spirit which the whelp had plucked up, throve with him.
6 His leaning against the chimney-piece reminded him of the night with the whelp.
7 He assisted her to rise, and she took his arm, and they advanced to meet the whelp.
8 It was the self-same chimney-piece, and somehow he felt as if he were the whelp to-night.
9 As to the whelp; throughout this scene as on all other late occasions, he had stuck close to Bounderby.
10 During this whole time the whelp moved about with Mr. Bounderby like his shadow, assisting in all the proceedings.
11 These were the last words spoken by the whelp, before a giddy drowsiness came upon him, followed by complete oblivion.
12 Mr. Bounderby now appeared, accompanied by Mr. Gradgrind and the whelp, with whom he had been holding conference up-stairs.
13 At the hour when the suspected man was looked for, the whelp was at the station; offering to wager that he had made off before the p.
14 Mr. James Harthouse began to think it would be a new sensation, if the face which changed so beautifully for the whelp, would change for him.
15 At last, when he rose to return to his hotel, and was a little doubtful whether he knew the way by night, the whelp immediately proffered his services as guide, and turned out with him to escort him thither.
16 James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul if required.
17 If he had had any sense of what he had done that night, and had been less of a whelp and more of a brother, he might have turned short on the road, might have gone down to the ill-smelling river that was dyed black, might have gone to bed in it for good and all, and have curtained his head for ever with its filthy waters.
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