one
another with your Mama's parasol between them seated on two chairs like
mad bulls what was I to do?'

'My dear Mrs Finching,' urged Clennam--'all so long ago and so long
concluded, is it worth while seriously to--'

'I can't Arthur,' returned Flora, 'be denounced as heartless by the
whole society of China without setting myself right when I have the
opportunity of doing so, and you must be very well aware that there
was Paul and Virginia which had to be returned and which was returned
without note or comment, not that I mean to say you could have written
to me watched as I was but if it had only come back with a red wafer on
the cover I should have known that it meant Come to Pekin Nankeen and
What's the third place, barefoot.'

'My dear Mrs Finching, you were not to blame, and I never blamed you.
We were both too young, too dependent and helpless, to do anything but
accept our separation.--Pray think how long ago,' gently remonstrated
Arthur. 'One more remark,' proceeded Flora with unslackened volubility,
'I wish to make, one more explanation I wish to offer, for five days I
had a cold in the head from crying which I passed entirely in the back
drawing-room--there is the back drawing-room still on the first floor
and still at the back of the house to confirm my words--when that dreary
period had passed a lull succeeded years rolled on and Mr F. became
acquainted with us at a mutual friend's, he was all attention he called
next day he soon began to call three evenings a week and to send
in little things for supper it was not love on Mr F.'s part it was
adoration, Mr F. proposed with the full approval of Papa and what could
I do?'

'Nothing whatever,' said Arthur, with the cheerfulest readiness, 'but
what you did. Let an old friend assure you of his full conviction that
you did quite right.'

'One last remark,' proceeded Flora, rejecting commonplace life with a
wave of her hand, 'I wish to make, one last explanation I wish to offer,
there was a time ere Mr F. first paid attentions incapable of being
mistaken, but that is past and was not to be, dear Mr Clennam you no
longer wear a golden chain you are free I trust you may be happy, here
is Papa who is always tiresome and putting in his nose everywhere where
he is not wanted.'

With these words, and with a hasty gesture fraught with timid
caution--such a gesture had Clennam's eyes been familiar with in the old
time--poor Flora left herself at eighteen years o