my dear Major, with yourself. I acknowledge--let me be
open--that it is my failing to be the creature of impulse, and to wear
my heart as it were, outside. I know my failing full well. My enemy
cannot know it better. But I am not penitent; I would rather not be
frozen by the heartless world, and am content to bear this imputation
justly.'

Mrs Skewton arranged her tucker, pinched her wiry throat to give it a
soft surface, and went on, with great complacency.

'It gave me (my dearest Edith too, I am sure) infinite pleasure
to receive Mr Dombey. As a friend of yours, my dear Major, we were
naturally disposed to be prepossessed in his favour; and I fancied
that I observed an amount of Heart in Mr Dombey, that was excessively
refreshing.'

'There is devilish little heart in Dombey now, Ma'am,' said the Major.

'Wretched man!' cried Mrs Skewton, looking at him languidly, 'pray be
silent.'

'J. B. is dumb, Ma'am,' said the Major.

'Mr Dombey,' pursued Cleopatra, smoothing the rosy hue upon her cheeks,
'accordingly repeated his visit; and possibly finding some attraction
in the simplicity and primitiveness of our tastes--for there is always
a charm in nature--it is so very sweet--became one of our little circle
every evening. Little did I think of the awful responsibility into which
I plunged when I encouraged Mr Dombey--to--

'To beat up these quarters, Ma'am,' suggested Major Bagstock.

'Coarse person! 'said Mrs Skewton, 'you anticipate my meaning, though in
odious language.

Here Mrs Skewton rested her elbow on the little table at her side,
and suffering her wrist to droop in what she considered a graceful and
becoming manner, dangled her fan to and fro, and lazily admired her hand
while speaking.

'The agony I have endured,' she said mincingly, 'as the truth has by
degrees dawned upon me, has been too exceedingly terrific to dilate
upon. My whole existence is bound up in my sweetest Edith; and to
see her change from day to day--my beautiful pet, who has positively
garnered up her heart since the death of that most delightful creature,
Granger--is the most affecting thing in the world.'

Mrs Skewton's world was not a very trying one, if one might judge of it
by the influence of its most affecting circumstance upon her; but this
by the way.

'Edith,' simpered Mrs Skewton, 'who is the perfect pearl of my life, is
said to resemble me. I believe we are alike.'

'There is one man in the world who never will adm