Mr Dombey and his conductress were soon heard coming downstairs again, talking all the way; and presently they re-entered the Doctor’s study.
“I hope, Mr Dombey,” said the Doctor, laying down his book, “that the arrangements meet your approval.”
“They are excellent, Sir,” said Mr Dombey.
“Very fair, indeed,” said Mrs Pipchin, in a low voice; never disposed to give too much encouragement.
“Mrs Pipchin,” said Mr Dombey, wheeling round, “will, with your permission, Doctor and Mrs Blimber, visit Paul now and then.”
“Whenever Mrs Pipchin pleases,” observed the Doctor.
“Always happy to see her,” said Mrs Blimber.
“I think,” said Mr Dombey, “I have given all the trouble I need, and may take my leave. Paul, my child,” he went close to him, as he sat upon the table. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Papa.”
The limp and careless little hand that Mr Dombey took in his, was singularly out of keeping with the wistful face. But he had no part in its sorrowful expression. It was not addressed to him. No, no. To Florence—all to Florence.