CHARLES DICKENS DOMBEY AND SON CHAPTER I Dombey and ...

scarcely any pause to the piano, and began there.
Edith Granger, any song but that! Edith Granger, you are very handsome, and
your touch upon the keys is brilliant, and your voice is deep and rich; but
not the air that his neglected daughter sang to his dead son!
Alas, he knows it not; and if he did, what air of hers would stir him, rigid
man! Sleep lonely Florence, sleep! Peace in thy dreams, although the night
has turned dark, and the clouds are gathering, and threaten to discharge
themselves in hail!
CHAPTER XXII
A Trifle of Management by Mr. Carker the Manager
MR. CARKER the Manager sat at his desk, smooth and soft as usual, reading
those letters which were reserved for him to open, backing them occasionally
with such memoranda and references as their business purport required, and
parcelling them out into little heaps for distribution through the several
departments of the House. The post had come in heavy that morning, and Mr.
Carker the Manager had a good deal to do.
The general action of a man so engaged--pausing to look over a bundle of
papers in his hand, dealing them round in various portions, taking up
another bundle and examining its contents with knitted brows and pursed-out
lips--dealing, and sorting, and pondering by turns--would easily suggest
some whimsical resemblance to a player at cards. The face of Mr. Carker the
Manager was in good keeping with such a fancy. It was the face of a man who
studied his play, warily: who made himself master of all the strong and weak