Flora had at last talked herself out of breath for one moment. One

moment; for she recovered breath in the act of raising a minute corner

of her pocket-handkerchief to her eye, as a tribute to the ghost of the

departed Mr F., and began again.

'No one could dispute, Arthur--Mr Clennam--that it's quite right you

should be formally friendly to me under the altered circumstances and

indeed you couldn't be anything else, at least I suppose not you ought

to know, but I can't help recalling that there was a time when things

were very different.'

'My dear Mrs Finching,' Arthur began, struck by the good tone again. 'Oh not that nasty ugly name, say Flora!' 'Flora. I assure you, Flora, I am happy in seeing you once more, and in

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finding that, like me, you have not forgotten the old foolish dreams,

when we saw all before us in the light of our youth and hope.'

'You don't seem so,' pouted Flora, 'you take it very coolly, but

however I know you are disappointed in me, I suppose the Chinese

ladies--Mandarinesses if you call them so--are the cause or perhaps I am

the cause myself, it's just as likely.' 'No, no,' Clennam entreated, 'don't say that.'

'Oh I must you know,' said Flora, in a positive tone, 'what nonsense not

to, I know I am not what you expected, I know that very well.' In the midst of her rapidity, she had found that out with the quick

perception of a cleverer woman. The inconsistent and profoundly

unreasonable way in which she instantly went on, nevertheless, to

interweave their long-abandoned boy and girl relations with their

present interview, made Clennam feel as if he were light-headed.

'One remark,' said Flora, giving their conversation, without the

slightest notice and to the great terror of Clennam, the tone of a

love-quarrel, 'I wish to make, one explanation I wish to offer, when

your Mama came and made a scene of it with my Papa and when I was called

down into the little breakfast-room where they were looking at 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.' '




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