essively forgotten. Quite as he might
have kissed her, if she had been conscious? No difference?

The darkness found him occupied with these thoughts. The darkness also
found Mr and Mrs Plornish knocking at his door. They brought with them a
basket, filled with choice selections from that stock in trade which met
with such a quick sale and produced such a slow return. Mrs Plornish was
affected to tears. Mr Plornish amiably growled, in his philosophical but
not lucid manner, that there was ups you see, and there was downs. It
was in vain to ask why ups, why downs; there they was, you know. He had
heerd it given for a truth that accordin' as the world went round, which
round it did rewolve undoubted, even the best of gentlemen must take his
turn of standing with his ed upside down and all his air a flying
the wrong way into what you might call Space. Wery well then. What
Mr Plornish said was, wery well then. That gentleman's ed would come
up-ards when his turn come, that gentleman's air would be a pleasure to
look upon being all smooth again, and wery well then!

It has been already stated that Mrs Plornish, not being philosophical,
wept. It further happened that Mrs Plornish, not being philosophical,
was intelligible. It may have arisen out of her softened state of mind,
out of her sex's wit, out of a woman's quick association of ideas,
or out of a woman's no association of ideas, but it further happened
somehow that Mrs Plornish's intelligibility displayed itself upon the
very subject of Arthur's meditations.

'The way father has been talking about you, Mr Clennam,' said Mrs
Plornish, 'you hardly would believe. It's made him quite poorly. As
to his voice, this misfortune has took it away. You know what a sweet
singer father is; but he couldn't get a note out for the children at
tea, if you'll credit what I tell you.'

While speaking, Mrs Plornish shook her head, and wiped her eyes, and
looked retrospectively about the room.

'As to Mr Baptist,' pursued Mrs Plornish, 'whatever he'll do when he
comes to know of it, I can't conceive nor yet imagine. He'd have been
here before now, you may be sure, but that he's away on confidential
business of your own. The persevering manner in which he follows up that
business, and gives himself no rest from it--it really do,' said
Mrs Plornish, winding up in the Italian manner, 'as I say to him,
Mooshattonisha padrona.'

Though not conceited, Mrs Plornish felt that she had turned