“I have none,” she said.
“Madam,” cried Mr Dombey, striking his hand upon the table, “hear me if you please. I say, if you have no respect for yourself—”
“And I say I have none,” she answered.
He looked at her; but the face she showed him in return would not have changed, if death itself had looked.
“Carker,” said Mr Dombey, turning more quietly to that gentleman, “as you have been my medium of communication with Mrs Dombey on former occasions, and as I choose to preserve the decencies of life, so far as I am individually concerned, I will trouble you to have the goodness to inform Mrs Dombey that if she has no respect for herself, I have some respect for myself, and therefore insist on my arrangements for to-morrow.”
“Tell your sovereign master, Sir,” said Edith, “that I will take leave to speak to him on this subject by-and-bye, and that I will speak to him alone.”
“Mr Carker, Madam,” said her husband, “being in possession of the reason which obliges me to refuse you that privilege, shall be absolved from the delivery of any such message.” He saw her eyes move, while he spoke, and followed them with his own.
“Your daughter is present, Sir,” said Edith.
“My daughter will remain present,” said Mr Dombey.
Florence, who had risen, sat down again, hiding her face in her hands, and trembling.