Dombey and Son

Charles Dickens

'And where is my old nurse?' said Paul. 'Is she dead too? Floy, are we all dead, except you?'

Dombey sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great arm-chair by the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead, carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.

but that wasn't going to be submitted to, he believed, was it? Oh! Ah!