affliction might
otherwise have had no meaning to me. Hence I would forget, and I do
forget, nothing. Hence I am contented, and say it is better with me
than with millions.' As she spoke these words, she put her hand upon the
watch, and restored it to the precise spot on her little table which
it always occupied. With her touch lingering upon it, she sat for some
moments afterwards, looking at it steadily and half-defiantly.

Mr Blandois, during this exposition, had been strictly attentive,
keeping his eyes fastened on the lady, and thoughtfully stroking his
moustache with his two hands. Mr Flintwinch had been a little fidgety,
and now struck in.

'There, there, there!' said he. 'That is quite understood, Mrs Clennam,
and you have spoken piously and well. Mr Blandois, I suspect, is not
of a pious cast.' 'On the contrary, sir!' that gentleman protested,
snapping his fingers. 'Your pardon! It's a part of my character. I am
sensitive, ardent, conscientious, and imaginative. A sensitive, ardent,
conscientious, and imaginative man, Mr Flintwinch, must be that, or
nothing!'

There was an inkling of suspicion in Mr Flintwinch's face that he might
be nothing, as he swaggered out of his chair (it was characteristic of
this man, as it is of all men similarly marked, that whatever he did,
he overdid, though it were sometimes by only a hairsbreadth), and
approached to take his leave of Mrs Clennam.

'With what will appear to you the egotism of a sick old woman, sir,' she
then said, 'though really through your accidental allusion, I have
been led away into the subject of myself and my infirmities. Being so
considerate as to visit me, I hope you will be likewise so considerate
as to overlook that. Don't compliment me, if you please.' For he was
evidently going to do it. 'Mr Flintwinch will be happy to render you any
service, and I hope your stay in this city may prove agreeable.'

Mr Blandois thanked her, and kissed his hand several times. 'This is an
old room,' he remarked, with a sudden sprightliness of manner, looking
round when he got near the door, 'I have been so interested that I have
not observed it. But it's a genuine old room.'

'It is a genuine old house,' said Mrs Clennam, with her frozen smile. 'A
place of no pretensions, but a piece of antiquity.'

'Faith!' cried the visitor. 'If Mr Flintwinch would do me the favour to
take me through the rooms on my way out, he could hardly oblige me more.
An old house is a we