“Very pleasant premises!” said Mr. Boffin, cheerfully.
“Pardon me, sir,” returned Mrs. Wilfer, correcting him, “it is the abode of conscious though independent poverty.”
Finding it rather difficult to pursue the conversation down this road, Mr. and Mrs. Boffin sat staring at midair, and Mrs. Wilfer sat silently giving them to understand that every breath she drew required to be drawn with a self-denial rarely paralleled in history, until Miss Bella appeared: whom Mrs. Wilfer presented, and to whom she explained the purpose of the visitors.
“I am much obliged to you, I am sure,” said Miss Bella, coldly shaking her curls, “but I doubt if I have the inclination to go out at all.”
“Bella!” Mrs. Wilfer admonished her; “Bella, you must conquer this.”
“Yes, do what your Ma says, and conquer it, my dear,” urged Mrs. Boffin, “because we shall be so glad to have you, and because you are much too pretty to keep yourself shut up.” With that, the pleasant creature