“Upon which,” pursued the cherub, “the certain mercenary young person distantly related to myself, having previously observed and mentioned to myself that prosperity was spoiling Mr. Boffin, felt that she must not sell her sense of what was right and what was wrong, and what was true and what was false, and what was just and what was unjust, for any price that could be paid to her by anyone alive? Am I leading up to it right?”

With another tearful laugh Bella joyfully kissed him again.

“And therefore⁠—and therefore,” the cherub went on in a glowing voice, as Bella’s hand stole gradually up his waistcoat to his neck, “this mercenary young person distantly related to myself, refused the price, took off the splendid fashions that were part of it, put on the comparatively poor dress that I had last given her, and trusting to my supporting her in what was right, came straight to me. Have I led up to it?”