o your
sister the plain state of the case; the impossibility of the Society
in which we moved recognising the Society in which she moved--though
charming, I have no doubt; the immense disadvantage at which she would
consequently place the family she had so high an opinion of, upon which
we should find ourselves compelled to look down with contempt, and
from which (socially speaking) we should feel obliged to recoil with
abhorrence. In short, I made an appeal to that laudable pride in your
sister.'

'Let my sister know, if you please, Mrs Merdle,' Fanny pouted, with a
toss of her gauzy bonnet, 'that I had already had the honour of telling
your son that I wished to have nothing whatever to say to him.'

'Well, Miss Dorrit,' assented Mrs Merdle, 'perhaps I might have
mentioned that before. If I did not think of it, perhaps it was because
my mind reverted to the apprehensions I had at the time that he might
persevere and you might have something to say to him.

I also mentioned to your sister--I again address the non-professional
Miss Dorrit--that my son would have nothing in the event of such a
marriage, and would be an absolute beggar. (I mention that merely as
a fact which is part of the narrative, and not as supposing it to have
influenced your sister, except in the prudent and legitimate way
in which, constituted as our artificial system is, we must all be
influenced by such considerations.) Finally, after some high words
and high spirit on the part of your sister, we came to the complete
understanding that there was no danger; and your sister was so obliging
as to allow me to present her with a mark or two of my appreciation at
my dressmaker's.'

Little Dorrit looked sorry, and glanced at Fanny with a troubled face.

'Also,' said Mrs Merdle, 'as to promise to give me the present pleasure
of a closing interview, and of parting with her on the best of terms.
On which occasion,' added Mrs Merdle, quitting her nest, and putting
something in Fanny's hand, 'Miss Dorrit will permit me to say Farewell
with best wishes in my own dull manner.'

The sisters rose at the same time, and they all stood near the cage of
the parrot, as he tore at a claw-full of biscuit and spat it out, seemed
to mock them with a pompous dance of his body without moving his feet,
and suddenly turned himself upside down and trailed himself all over
the outside of his golden cage, with the aid of his cruel beak and black
tongue.

'Adieu, Miss Do