My dear, how much improved you are.

Permit me to hand you a chair, my dear.' Miss Twinkleton rose at her little writing-table, saying, with general sweetness, as to the polite Universe: 'Will you permit me to retire ?' 'By no means, madam, on my account.

I beg that you will not move.' 'I must entreat permission to _move_,' returned Miss Twinkleton, repeating the word with a charming grace; 'but I will not withdraw, since you are so obliging.

If I wheel my desk to this corner window, shall I be in the way ?' 'Madam! In the way!' 'You are very kind .-- Rosa, my dear, you will be under no restraint, I am sure.' Here Mr.Grewgious, left by the fire with Rosa, said again: 'My dear, how do you do?
I am glad to see you, my dear.' And having waited for her to sit down, sat down himself.
'My visits,' said Mr.Grewgious, 'are, like those of the angels--not that I compare myself to an angel.' 'No, sir,' said Rosa.
'Not by any means,' assented Mr.Grewgious.

'I merely refer to my visits, which are few and far between.