'I should think that, wherever I saw you,' replied Steerforth.
'Go along, you dog, do!' cried the little creature,making a whisk at him with the handkerchief with which she was wiping her face, 'and don't be impudent! But I give you my word and honour I was at Lady Mithers's last week—THERE'S a woman!How SHE wears!—and Mithers himself came into the room where I was waiting for her—THERE'S a man! How HE wears! and his wig too, for he's had it these ten years—and he went on at that rate in the complimentary line, that I began to think I should be obliged to ring the bell. Ha! ha! ha! He's a pleasant wretch, but he wants principle.'