ard me mention Mr Carker.'

'I am charmed, I am sure,' said Mrs Skewton, graciously.

Mr Carker was charmed, of course. Would he have been more charmed on Mr
Dombey's behalf, if Mrs Skewton had been (as he at first supposed her)
the Edith whom they had toasted overnight?

'Why, where, for Heaven's sake, is Edith?' exclaimed Mrs Skewton,
looking round. 'Still at the door, giving Withers orders about the
mounting of those drawings! My dear Mr Dombey, will you have the
kindness--

Mr Dombey was already gone to seek her. Next moment he returned, bearing
on his arm the same elegantly dressed and very handsome lady whom Mr
Carker had encountered underneath the trees.

'Carker--' began Mr Dombey. But their recognition of each other was so
manifest, that Mr Dombey stopped surprised.

'I am obliged to the gentleman,' said Edith, with a stately bend, 'for
sparing me some annoyance from an importunate beggar just now.'

'I am obliged to my good fortune,' said Mr Carker, bowing low, 'for the
opportunity of rendering so slight a service to one whose servant I am
proud to be.'

As her eye rested on him for an instant, and then lighted on the ground,
he saw in its bright and searching glance a suspicion that he had not
come up at the moment of his interference, but had secretly observed
her sooner. As he saw that, she saw in his eye that her distrust was not
without foundation.

'Really,' cried Mrs Skewton, who had taken this opportunity of
inspecting Mr Carker through her glass, and satisfying herself (as she
lisped audibly to the Major) that he was all heart; 'really now, this is
one of the most enchanting coincidences that I ever heard of. The idea!
My dearest Edith, there is such an obvious destiny in it, that really
one might almost be induced to cross one's arms upon one's frock, and
say, like those wicked Turks, there is no What's-his-name but Thingummy,
and What-you-may-call-it is his prophet!'

Edith designed no revision of this extraordinary quotation from the
Koran, but Mr Dombey felt it necessary to offer a few polite remarks.

'It gives me great pleasure,' said Mr Dombey, with cumbrous gallantry,
'that a gentleman so nearly connected with myself as Carker is, should
have had the honour and happiness of rendering the least assistance to
Mrs Granger.' Mr Dombey bowed to her. 'But it gives me some pain, and
it occasions me to be really envious of Carker;' he unconsciously laid
stress on these words, as sensible