“I hope so,” returned Mr Dombey.
“Egad!” said Mr Carker, shaking his head, “Time flies!”
“I think so, sometimes,” returned Mr Dombey, glancing at his newspaper.
“Oh! You! You have no reason to think so,” observed Carker. “One who sits on such an elevation as yours, and can sit there, unmoved, in all seasons—hasn’t much reason to know anything about the flight of time. It’s men like myself, who are low down and are not superior in circumstances, and who inherit new masters in the course of Time, that have cause to look about us. I shall have a rising sun to worship, soon.”
“Time enough, time enough, Carker!” said Mr Dombey, rising from his chair, and standing with his back to the fire. “Have you anything there for me?”
“I don’t know that I need trouble you,” returned Carker, turning over the papers in his hand. “You have a committee today at three, you know.”
“And one at three, three-quarters,” added Mr Dombey.
“Catch you forgetting anything!” exclaimed Carker, still turning over his papers. “If Mr Paul inherits your memory, he’ll be a troublesome customer in the House. 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.”