“Ask me anything you wish to ask,” returned Rokesmith, “but use the expedition that you recommend.”

“You pretend to have a mighty admiration for this young lady?” said Mr. Boffin, laying his hand protectingly on Bella’s head without looking down at her.

“I do not pretend.”

“Oh! Well. You have a mighty admiration for this young lady⁠—since you are so particular?”

“Yes.”

“How do you reconcile that, with this young lady’s being a weak-spirited, improvident idiot, not knowing what was due to herself, flinging up her money to the church-weathercocks, and racing off at a splitting pace for the workhouse?”