as a little carriage of eccentric movement,
for again he heard it stop behind him and turn round, and again he saw
it pass him. Then it stopped, and then went on, out of sight. But, not
far out of sight, for, when he came to the corner of his own street,
there it stood again.

There was a lady's face at the window as he came up with this carriage,
and he was passing it when the lady softly called to him by his name.

'I beg your pardon, Ma'am?' said Mr Boffin, coming to a stop.

'It is Mrs Lammle,' said the lady.

Mr Boffin went up to the window, and hoped Mrs Lammle was well.

'Not very well, dear Mr Boffin; I have fluttered myself by
being--perhaps foolishly--uneasy and anxious. I have been waiting for
you some time. Can I speak to you?'

Mr Boffin proposed that Mrs Lammle should drive on to his house, a few
hundred yards further.

'I would rather not, Mr Boffin, unless you particularly wish it. I feel
the difficulty and delicacy of the matter so much that I would rather
avoid speaking to you at your own home. You must think this very
strange?'

Mr Boffin said no, but meant yes.

'It is because I am so grateful for the good opinion of all my
friends, and am so touched by it, that I cannot bear to run the risk of
forfeiting it in any case, even in the cause of duty. I have asked my
husband (my dear Alfred, Mr Boffin) whether it is the cause of duty,
and he has most emphatically said Yes. I wish I had asked him sooner. It
would have spared me much distress.'

('Can this be more dropping down upon me!' thought Mr Boffin, quite
bewildered.)

'It was Alfred who sent me to you, Mr Boffin. Alfred said, "Don't
come back, Sophronia, until you have seen Mr Boffin, and told him all.
Whatever he may think of it, he ought certainly to know it." Would you
mind coming into the carriage?'

Mr Boffin answered, 'Not at all,' and took his seat at Mrs Lammle's
side.

'Drive slowly anywhere,' Mrs Lammle called to her coachman, 'and don't
let the carriage rattle.'

'It MUST be more dropping down, I think,' said Mr Boffin to himself.
'What next?'

Chapter 15

THE GOLDEN DUSTMAN AT HIS WORST

The breakfast table at Mr Boffin's was usually a very pleasant one, and
was always presided over by Bella. As though he began each new day in
his healthy natural character, and some waking hours were necessary to
his relapse into the corrupting influences of his wealth, the face and
the demeanour of the Golden Dustman were