Their feelings are terribly mixed up with their personal appearance.

It was some time before Mr.Mafferton would consent to be even tolerably at his ease, though I made a distinct effort to show that I bore no malice.

It must have been the mere memory of the past that embarrassed him, for the other two were as completely unaware of his existence as they well could be in the same carriage.

For a time, as I talked in commonplaces, Mr.
Mafferton in monosyllables, and Mr.Dod and Miss Portheris in regards, the most sordid realist would have hesitated to chronicle our conversation.
"When," I inquired casually, "are you thinking of going back, Mr.
Mafferton ?" "To town?
Not before October, I fancy!" "Even in Rome," I observed, "London is 'town' to you, isn't it?
What a curious thing insular tradition is!" "I suppose Rome was invented first," he replied haughtily.
"Why yes," I said; "while the ancestors of Eaton-square were running about in blue paint and bear-skins, and Albert Gate, in the directory, was a mere cave.

What do you suppose," I went on, following up this line of thought, "when you were untutored savages, was your substitute for the Red Book ?" "Really," said this Englishman, "I haven't an idea.