“And as to you, my dear Bella,” said Mrs. Boffin, still with that distressed expression, “he is so much attached to you, whatever he says, that your own father has not a truer interest in you and can hardly like you better than he does.”

“Says too!” cried Mr. Boffin. “Whatever he says! Why, I say so, openly. Give me a kiss, my dear child, in saying good night, and let me confirm what my old lady tells you. I am very fond of you, my dear, and I am entirely of your mind, and you and I will take care that you shall be rich. These good looks of yours (which you have some right to be vain of; my dear, though you are not, you know) are worth money, and you shall make money of ’em. The money you will have, will be worth money, and you shall make money of that too. There’s a golden ball at your feet. Good night, my dear.”