The handsome fittings and furnishings of the house in Sackville Street were piled thick and high over the skeleton upstairs, and if it ever whispered from under its load of upholstery, “Here I am in the closet!” it was to very few ears, and certainly never to Miss Podsnap’s. What Miss Podsnap was particularly charmed with, next to the graces of her friend, was the happiness of her friend’s married life. This was frequently their theme of conversation.

“I am sure,” said Miss Podsnap, “ Mr. Lammle is like a lover. At least I⁠—I should think he was.”

“Georgiana, darling!” said Mrs. Lammle, holding up a forefinger, “Take care!”

“Oh my goodness me!” exclaimed Miss Podsnap, reddening. “What have I said now?”