Walter’s breath was so completely taken away by his astonishment, that he could hardly find enough for the repetition of the words “West Indies.”
“Somebody must go,” said Mr Dombey, “and you are young and healthy, and your Uncle’s circumstances are not good. Tell your Uncle that you are appointed. You will not go yet. There will be an interval of a month—or two perhaps.”
“Shall I remain there, Sir?” inquired Walter.
“Will you remain there, Sir!” repeated Mr Dombey, turning a little more round towards him. “What do you mean? What does he mean, Carker?”
“Live there, Sir,” faltered Walter.
“Certainly,” returned Mr Dombey.
Walter bowed.
“That’s all,” said Mr Dombey, resuming his letters. “You will explain to him in good time about the usual outfit and so forth, Carker, of course. He needn’t wait, Carker.”
“You needn’t wait, Gay,” observed Mr Carker: bare to the gums.
“Unless,” said Mr Dombey, stopping in his reading without looking off the letter, and seeming to listen. “Unless he has anything to say.”