“Do you think I can’t understand you as well as if I had seen you,” pursued my aunt, “now that I do see and hear you⁠—which, I tell you candidly, is anything but a pleasure to me? Oh yes, bless us! who so smooth and silky as Mr. Murdstone at first! The poor, benighted innocent had never seen such a man. He was made of sweetness. He worshipped her. He doted on her boy⁠—tenderly doted on him! He was to be another father to him, and they were all to live together in a garden of roses, weren’t they? Ugh! Get along with you, do!” said my aunt.

“I never heard anything like this person in my life!” exclaimed Miss Murdstone.