“Humph!” thought Mrs. Sparsit, as she made a stately bend. “Five and thirty, good-looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice, good breeding, well-dressed, dark hair, bold eyes.” All which Mrs. Sparsit observed in her womanly way⁠—like the Sultan who put his head in the pail of water⁠—merely in dipping down and coming up again.

“Please to be seated, sir,” said Mrs. Sparsit.

“Thank you. Allow me.” He placed a chair for her, but remained himself carelessly lounging against the table. “I left my servant at the railway looking after the luggage⁠—very heavy train and vast quantity of it in the van⁠—and strolled on, looking about me. Exceedingly odd place. Will you allow me to ask you if it’s always as black as this?”