File:Our mutual friend (1895) (14778753964).jpg

Identifier: ourmutualfriend00dick (find matches)
Title: Our mutual friend
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Dickens, Charles, 1837-1896, ed
Subjects: Inheritance and succession Social classes Poor families Deception
Publisher: New York, London, Macmillan
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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ey you will have, will be worthmoney, and you shall make money of that too. Theres a goldenball at your feet. Good Night, my dear. Somehow, Bella was not so well pleased with this assurance andthis prospect as she might have been. Somehow, when she put herarms round Mrs. Boffins neck and said Good Night, she derived asense of unworthiness from the still anxious face of that goodwoman and her obvious wish to excuse her husband. Why, whatneed to excuse him ? thought Bella, sitting down in her own room. What he said was very sensible, I am sure, and very true, I amsure. It is only what I often say to myself. Dont I like it then 1No, I dont like it, and, though he is my liberal benefactor, I dis-parage him for it. Then pray, said Bella, sternly putting thequestion to herself in the looking-glass as usual, what do youmean by this, you inconsistent little Beast 1 The looking-glass preserving a discreet ministerial silence whenthus called upon for explanation, Bella went to bed with a weari-
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BIBLIOMANIA OF THE GOLDEN DUSTMAN. 448 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. ness upon her spirit which was more than the weariness of want ofsleep. And again in the morning, she looked for the cloud, and forthe deepening of the cloud, upon the Golden Dustmans face. She had begun by this time to be his frequent companion in hismorning strolls about the streets, and it was at this time that he madeher a party to his engaging in a curious pursuit. Having beenhard at work in one dull enclosure all his life, he had a childsdelight in looking at shops. It had been one of the first noveltiesand pleasures of his freedom, and was equally the delight of hiswife. For many years their only walks in London had been takenon Sundays when the shops were shut; and when every day in theweek became their holiday, they derived an enjoyment from thevariety and fancy and beauty of the display in the windows, whichseemed incapable of exhaustion. As if the principal streets were agreat Theatre and the play were childishly new

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