the last three on one side of the table: on the opposite side sat Mr Clennam; a tall French gentleman with raven hair and beard, of a swart and terrible, not to say genteelly diabolical aspect, but who had shown himself the mildest of men; and a handsome young Englishwoman, travelling quite alone, who had a proud observant face, and had either withdrawn herself from the rest or been avoided by the rest—nobody, herself excepted perhaps, could have quite decided which. The rest of the party were of the usual materials: travellers on business, and travellers for pleasure; officers from India on leave; merchants in the Greek and Turkey       trades; a clerical English husband in a meek strait-waistcoat, on a wedding trip with his young wife; a majestic English mama and papa, of the patrician order, with a family of three growing-up daughters, who were keeping a journal for the confusion of their fellow-creatures; and a deaf old English mother, tough in travel, with a very decidedly grown-up daughter indeed, which daughter went sketching about the universe in the expectation of ultimately toning herself off into the married state.     

       The reserved Englishwoman took up Mr Meagles in his last remark.     

       ‘Do you mean that a prisoner forgives his prison?’ said she, slowly and with emphasis.     

       ‘That was my speculation, Miss Wade. I don’t pretend to know positively how a prisoner might feel. I never was one before.’      

       ‘Mademoiselle doubts,’ said the French gentleman in his own language,       ‘it’s being so easy to forgive?’      

       ‘I do.’      

       Pet had to translate this passage to Mr Meagles, who never by any accident acquired any knowledge whatever of the language of any country into which he travelled. ‘Oh!’ said he. ‘Dear me! But that’s a pity, isn’t it?’      

       ‘That I am not credulous?’ said Miss Wade.     

       ‘Not exactly that. Put it another way. That you can’t believe it easy to forgive.’      

       ‘My experience,’ she quietly returned, ‘has been correcting my belief in many respects, for some years. It is our natural progress, I have heard.’      

       ‘Well, well! But it’s not natural to bear 

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