.

Family Affairs.
As the city clocks struck nine on Monday morning, Mrs Clennam was wheeled by Jeremiah Flintwinch of the cut-down aspect to her tall cabinet.

When she had unlocked and opened it, and had settled herself at its desk, Jeremiah withdrew--as it might be, to hang himself more effectually--and her son appeared.
'Are you any better this morning, mother ?' She shook her head, with the same austere air of luxuriousness that she had shown over-night when speaking of the weather.
'I shall never be better any more.

It is well for me, Arthur, that I know it and can bear it.' Sitting with her hands laid separately upon the desk, and the tall cabinet towering before her, she looked as if she were performing on a dumb church organ.

Her son thought so (it was an old thought with him), while he took his seat beside it.
She opened a drawer or two, looked over some business papers, and put them back again.