“Your information is true of Mrs. Boffin, anyhow,” was Mr. Boffin’s answer, as he surveyed his new friend again. There was something repressed in the strange man’s manner, and he walked with his eyes on the ground⁠—though conscious, for all that, of Mr. Boffin’s observation⁠—and he spoke in a subdued voice. But his words came easily, and his voice was agreeable in tone, albeit constrained.

“When I add, I can discern for myself what the general tongue says of you⁠—that you are quite unspoiled by fortune, and not uplifted⁠—I trust you will not, as a man of an open nature, suspect that I mean to flatter you, but will believe that all I mean is to excuse myself, these being my only excuses for my present intrusion.”

(“How much?” thought Mr. Boffin. “It must be coming to money. How much?”)