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191 ‘We keep twenty young women constantly employed in the establishment,’ said Madame. ‘Indeed, ma’am!’ replied Kate, timidly. ‘Yes; and some of ’em demd handsome, too,’ said the master. ‘Mantalini!’ exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice. ‘My senses’ idol!’ said Mantalini. ‘Do you wish to break my heart?’ ‘Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with--with-- with little ballet-dancers,’ replied Mantalini in a poetical strain. ‘Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,’ said his wife. ‘What can Mr Nickleby think when he hears you?’ ‘Oh! Nothing, ma’am, nothing,’ replied Ralph. ‘I know his amiable nature, and yours,--mere little remarks that give a zest to your daily intercourse--lovers’ quarrels that add sweetness to those domestic joys which promise to last so long--that’s all; that’s all.’ If an iron door could be supposed to quarrel with its hinges, and to make a firm resolution to open with slow obstinacy, and grind them to powder in the process, it would emit a pleasanter sound in so doing, than did these words in the rough and bitter voice in which they were uttered by Ralph. Even Mr Mantalini felt their influence, and turning affrighted round, exclaimed: ‘What a demd horrid croaking!’ ‘You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr Mantalini says,’ observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby. ‘I do not, ma’am,’ said Kate, with quiet contempt. ‘Mr Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the young women,’ continued Madame, looking at her husband, and speaking to Kate. ‘If he has seen any of them, he must have seen |