“Why, old woman, I hope so,” returned Mr. Boffin, cheerfully, if not boastfully.

“Hope so, deary?”

“Our old selves wouldn’t do here, old lady. Haven’t you found that out yet? Our old selves would be fit for nothing here but to be robbed and imposed upon. Our old selves weren’t people of fortune; our new selves are; it’s a great difference.”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Boffin, pausing in her work again, softly to draw a long breath and to look at the fire. “A great difference.”

“And we must be up to the difference,” pursued her husband; “we must be equal to the change; that’s what we must be. We’ve got to hold our own now, against everybody (for everybody’s hand is stretched out to be dipped into our pockets), and we have got to recollect that money makes money, as well as makes everything else.”