The generation now slowly finding its way to its precincts had discussed the matter since their childhood and nothing had come of it.
One bold spirit put forth the suggestion that the two gentlemen were London architects sent down by the Queen to see to the church.

But the idea fell to the ground before the assurance from Mrs.Clopton's own lips that the old gentleman was nothing but a Frenchman.
Mrs.Clopton kept "The Black Sailor," and knew a deal more than she was ready to tell people; which is tantamount to saying that she was a woman in a thousand.

It had leaked out, however, that the spokesman of the party, Mr.Dormer Colville, had asked Mrs.Clopton whether it was true that there was claret in the cellars of "The Black Sailor." And any one having doubts could satisfy himself with a sight of the empty bottles, all mouldy, standing in the back yard of the inn.
They were wine-merchants from France, concluded the wiseacres of Farlingford over their evening beer.

They had come to Farlingford to see Captain Clubbe.

What could be more natural! For Farlingford was proud of Captain Clubbe.