“It was all Mrs. Bumble. She would do it," urged Mr. Bumble; first looking round, to ascertain that his partner had left the room.That is no excuse," returned Mr. Brownlow. "You were present on the occasion of the destruction of these trinkets, and, indeed, are the more guilty of the two, in the eye of the law; for the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction."If the law supposes that," said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, "the law is a ass — a idiot. If that's the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is, that his eye may be opened by experience — by experience.”

“But, tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble's soul; his heart was waterproof.”

“Speak well of the law. Take care of your chest and voice, my good friend, and leave the law to take care of itself. I give you that advice”

“You hear, Eugene?' said Lightwood over his shoulder. 'You are deeply interested in lime.''Without lime,' returned that unmoved barrister at law, 'my existence would be unilluminated by a ray of hope.”

“Your tale is of the longest," observed Monks, moving restlessly in his chair.It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow, young man," returned Mr. Brownlow, "and such tales usually are; if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief.”

“And this is the eternal law. For, Evil often stops short at istelf and dies with the doer of it! but Good, never.”

“Where is your false, your treacherous, and cursed wife?""She's gone forrard to the Police Office," returns Mr Bucket. "You'll see her there, my dear.""I would like to kiss her!" exclaims Mademoiselle Hortense, panting tigress-like. "You'd bite her, I suspect," says Mr Bucket."I would!" making her eyes very large. "I would love to tear her, limb from limb.""Bless you, darling," says Mr Bucket, with the greatest composure; "I'm fully prepared to hear that. Your sex have such a surprising animosity against one another, when you do differ.”