B.'s own sentiment,' observed the Major, 'expressed by J.B.fifty thousand times!' 'Do not interrupt, rude man!' said Cleopatra.

'What are my feelings, then, when I find that there is one subject avoided by us! That there is a what's-his-name--a gulf--opened between us.

That my own artless Edith is changed to me! They are of the most poignant description, of course.' The Major left his chair, and took one nearer to the little table.
'From day to day I see this, my dear Major,' proceeded Mrs Skewton.
'From day to day I feel this.

From hour to hour I reproach myself for that excess of faith and trustfulness which has led to such distressing consequences; and almost from minute to minute, I hope that Mr Dombey may explain himself, and relieve the torture I undergo, which is extremely wearing.

But nothing happens, my dear Major; I am the slave of remorse--take care of the coffee-cup: you are so very awkward--my darling Edith is an altered being; and I really don't see what is to be done, or what good creature I can advise with.' Major Bagstock, encouraged perhaps by the softened and confidential tone into which Mrs Skewton, after several times lapsing into it for a moment, seemed now to have subsided for good, stretched out his hand across the little table, and said with a leer, 'Advise with Joe, Ma'am.' 'Then, you aggravating monster,' said Cleopatra, giving one hand to the Major, and tapping his knuckles with her fan, which she held in the other: 'why don't you talk to me?
you know what I mean.