But Amelia, looking up at her bed, over which hung the portraits of her husband and son, told her young protegee never, never, to speak on that subject again; that Major Dobbin had been her husband's dearest friend and her own and George's most kind and affectionate guardian; that she loved him as a brother--but that a woman who had been married to such an angel as that, and she pointed to the wall, could never think of any other union. Poor Polly sighed: she thought what she should do if young Mr. Tomkins, at the surgery, who always looked at her so at church, and who, by those mere aggressive glances had put her timorous little heart into such a flutter that she was ready to surrender at once,--what she should do if he were to die? She knew he was consumptive, his cheeks were so red and he was so uncommon thin in the waist.

But Amelia, looking up at the portraits of her husband and son, told her never to speak on that subject again; that Major Dobbin had been her husband's dearest friend and her own kind guardian; that she loved him as a brother - but that a woman who had been married to such an angel as that could never think of another union.
Poor Polly sighed: she thought of young Mr. Tomkins, at the surgery, whose glances at church put her timorous little heart into a flutter - what would she do if he were to die? She knew he was consumptive, his cheeks were so red and he was so thin.
