Charles Dickens

“ Sparsit, sweetly.
‘You drew her portrait perfectly,’ said Mr. Harthouse. ‘Presented her dead image.’
‘Very engaging, sir,’ said Mrs. Sparsit, causing her mittens slowly to revolve over one another.
‘Highly so.’
‘It used to be considered,’ said Mrs. Sparsit, ‘that Miss Gradgrind was wanting in animation, but I confess she appears to me considerably and strikingly improved in that respect. Ay, and indeed here is Mr. Bounderby!’ cried Mrs. Sparsit, nodding her head a great many times, as if she had been talking and thinking of no one else. ‘How do you find yourself this morning, sir? ”

“ Sparsit, ma’am?’ said Mr. Bounderby, swelling with a sense of slight. ‘You attach too much importance to these things, ma’am. By George, you’ll be corrupted in some of your notions here. You are old- fashioned, ma’am. You are behind Tom Gradgrind’s children’s time.’
‘What is the matter with you?’ asked Louisa, coldly surprised. ‘What has given you offence?’
‘Offence!’ repeated Bounderby. ‘Do you suppose if there was any offence given me, I shouldn’t name it, and request to have it corrected? I am a straightforward man, I believe. ”

“ Louisa, holding her hand, could feel no pulse; but kissing it, could see a slight thin thread of life in fluttering motion.
‘You very seldom see your sister,’ said Mrs. Gradgrind. ‘She grows like you. I wish you would look at her. Sissy, bring her here.’
She was brought, and stood with her hand in her sister’s. Louisa had observed her with her arm round Sissy’s neck, and she felt the difference of this approach.
‘Do you see the likeness, Louisa?’
‘Yes, mother. I should think her like me. But - ’
‘Eh! Yes, I always say so,’ Mrs. Gradgrind cried, with unexpected quickness. ‘And that reminds me. ”