One of you is enough.' 'You have an accurate memory of your own,' said Mr Dombey.
'Oh! I!' returned the manager.

'It's the only capital of a man like me.' Mr Dombey did not look less pompous or at all displeased, as he stood leaning against the chimney-piece, surveying his (of course unconscious) clerk, from head to foot.

The stiffness and nicety of Mr Carker's dress, and a certain arrogance of manner, either natural to him or imitated from a pattern not far off, gave great additional effect to his humility.

He seemed a man who would contend against the power that vanquished him, if he could, but who was utterly borne down by the greatness and superiority of Mr Dombey.
'Is Morfin here ?' asked Mr Dombey after a short pause, during which Mr Carker had been fluttering his papers, and muttering little abstracts of their contents to himself.
'Morfin's here,' he answered, looking up with his widest and almost sudden smile; 'humming musical recollections--of his last night's quartette party, I suppose--through the walls between us, and driving me half mad.

I wish he'd make a bonfire of his violoncello, and burn his music-books in it.' 'You respect nobody, Carker, I think,' said Mr Dombey.
'No ?' inquired Carker, with another wide and most feline show of his teeth.