‘My life,’ said Mr. Mantalini, ‘what a demd devil of a time you have been!’
‘I didn’t even know Mr. Nickleby was here, my love,’ said Madame Mantalini.
‘Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman must be, my soul,’ remonstrated Mr. Mantalini.
‘My dear,’ said Madame, ‘that is entirely your fault.’
‘My fault, my heart’s joy?’
‘Certainly,’ returned the lady; ‘what can you expect, dearest, if you will not correct the man?’
‘Correct the man, my soul’s delight!’
‘Yes; I am sure he wants speaking to, badly enough,’ said Madame, pouting.
‘Then do not vex itself,’ said Mr. Mantalini; ‘he shall be horse-whipped till he cries out demnebly.’ With this promise Mr. Mantalini kissed Madame Mantalini, and, after that performance, Madame Mantalini pulled Mr Mantalini playfully by the ear: which done, they descended to business.
‘Now, ma’am,’ said Ralph, who had looked on, at all this, with such scorn as few men can express in looks, ‘this is my niece.’