'MINE, good gentleman!' This was just what Mr Dennis wanted, and expected.
'Ah!' he said, looking so soothingly, not to say amorously on Miggs, that she sat, as she afterwards remarked, on pins and needles of the sharpest Whitechapel kind, not knowing what intentions might be suggesting that expression to his features: 'I was afraid of that.

I saw as much myself.

It's her fault.

She WILL entice 'em.' 'I wouldn't,' cried Miggs, folding her hands and looking upwards with a kind of devout blankness, 'I wouldn't lay myself out as she does; I wouldn't be as bold as her; I wouldn't seem to say to all male creeturs "Come and kiss me"'-- and here a shudder quite convulsed her frame--'for any earthly crowns as might be offered.

Worlds,' Miggs added solemnly, 'should not reduce me.No.Not if I was Wenis.' 'Well, but you ARE Wenus, you know,' said Mr Dennis, confidentially.
'No, I am not, good gentleman,' answered Miggs, shaking her head with an air of self-denial which seemed to imply that she might be if she chose, but she hoped she knew better.