“I don’t expect to be pleased, dear,” said Bella, with a languid turn of her eyes.
“Truly, my love,” returned Sophronia, shaking her head, and smiling her best smile, “it would not be very easy to find a man worthy of your attractions.”
“The question is not a man, my dear,” said Bella, coolly, “but an establishment.”
“My love,” returned Mrs. Lammle, “your prudence amazes me—where did you study life so well!—you are right. In such a case as yours, the object is a fitting establishment. You could not descend to an inadequate one from Mr. Boffin’s house, and even if your beauty alone could not command it, it is to be assumed that Mr. and Mrs. Boffin will—”
“Oh! they have already,” Bella interposed.
“No! Have they really?”
A little vexed by a suspicion that she had spoken precipitately, and withal a little defiant of her own vexation, Bella determined not to retreat.
“That is to say,” she explained, “they have told me they mean to portion me as their adopted child, if you mean that. But don’t mention it.”
“Mention it!” replied Mrs. Lammle, as if she were full of awakened feeling at the suggestion of such an impossibility. “Men‑tion it!”
“I don’t mind telling you, Mrs. Lammle—” Bella began again.
“My love, say Sophronia, or I must not say Bella.”