“Clara,” he continued, looking at my mother, “you surprise me! You astound me! Yes, I had a satisfaction in the thought of marrying an inexperienced and artless person, and forming her character, and infusing into it some amount of that firmness and decision of which it stood in need. But when Jane Murdstone is kind enough to come to my assistance in this endeavour, and to assume, for my sake, a condition something like a housekeeper’s, and when she meets with a base return⁠—”

“Oh, pray, pray, Edward,” cried my mother, “don’t accuse me of being ungrateful. I am sure I am not ungrateful. No one ever said I was before. I have many faults, but not that. Oh, don’t, my dear!”

“When Jane Murdstone meets, I say,” he went on, after waiting until my mother was silent, “with a base return, that feeling of mine is chilled and altered.”

“Don’t, my love, say that!” implored my mother very piteously. “Oh, don’t, Edward! I can’t bear to hear it. Whatever I am, I am affectionate. I know I am affectionate. I wouldn’t say it, if I wasn’t sure that I am. Ask Peggotty. I am sure she’ll tell you I’m affectionate.”