desk, Florence and he withdraw with Mrs Blimber and Cornelia; and Doctor Blimber is heard to observe behind them as he comes out last, and shuts the door, "Gentlemen, we will now resume our studies," For that and little else is what the Doctor hears the sea say, or has heard it saying all his life.
Florence then steals away and goes upstairs to the old bedroom with Mrs. Blimber and Cornelia; Mr. Toots, who feels that neither he nor anybody else is wanted there, stands talking to the Doctor at the study-door, or rather hearing the Doctor talk to him, and wondering how he ever thought the study a great sanctuary, and the Doctor, with his round turned legs, like a clerical pianoforte, an awful man. Florence soon comes down and takes leave; Mr. Toots takes leave; and Diogenes, who has been worrying the weak-eyed young man pitilessly all the time, shoots out at the door, and barks a glad defiance down the cliff; while 'Melia, and another of the Doctor’s female domestics, looks out of an upper window, laughing "at that there Toots," and saying of Miss Dombey, "But really though, now—ain’t she like her brother, only prettier?"
Mr. Toots, who saw when Florence came down that there were tears upon her face, is desperately anxious and uneasy, and at first fears that he did wrong in proposing the visit. But he is soon relieved by her saying she is very glad to have been there again, and by her talking quite cheerfully about it all, as they walked on by the sea. What with the voices there, and her sweet voice, when they come near Mr. Dombey’s house, and Mr. Toots must leave her, he is so enslaved that he has not a scrap of free-will left; when she gives him her hand at parting, he cannot let it go.
"Miss Dombey, I beg your pardon," says Mr. Toots, in a sad fluster, "but if you would allow me to—to—"
The smiling and unconscious look of Florence brings him to a dead stop.
"If you would allow me to—if you would not consider it a liberty, Miss Dombey, if I was to—without any encouragement at all, if I was to hope, you know," says Mr. Toots.
Florence looks at him inquiringly.
"Miss Dombey," says Mr. Toots, who feels that he is in for it now, "I really am in that state of adoration of you that I don’t know what to do with myself. I am the most deplorable wretch. If it wasn’t at the corner of the Square at present, I should go down on my knees, and beg and entreat of you, without any encouragement at all, just to let me hope that I may—may think it possible that you—"
"Oh, if you please, don’t!" cries Florence, for the moment quite alarmed and distressed. "Oh, pray don’t, Mr. Toots. Stop, if you please. Don’t say any more. As a kindness and a favour to me, don’t."
Mr. Toots is dreadfully abashed, and his mouth opens.
"You have been so good to me," says Florence, "I am so grateful to you, I have such reason to like you for being a kind friend to me, and I do like you so much;" and here the ingenuous face smiles upon him with the pleasantest look of honesty in the world; "that I am sure you are only going to say good bye!"
"Certainly, Miss Dombey," says Mr. Toots, "I—I—that’s exactly what I mean. It’s of no consequence."
"Good bye!" cries Florence.
"Good bye, Miss Dombey!" stammers Mr. Toots. "I hope you
