lteration in him was, that as he rode to and fro along
the streets, he would fall into deep fits of musing, like that in
which he had come away from Mr Dombey's house, on the morning of
that gentleman's disaster. At such times, he would keep clear of the
obstacles in his way, mechanically; and would appear to see and hear
nothing until arrival at his destination, or some sudden chance or
effort roused him.

Walking his white-legged horse thus, to the counting-house of Dombey and
Son one day, he was as unconscious of the observation of two pairs of
women's eyes, as of the fascinated orbs of Rob the Grinder, who, in
waiting a street's length from the appointed place, as a demonstration
of punctuality, vainly touched and retouched his hat to attract
attention, and trotted along on foot, by his master's side, prepared to
hold his stirrup when he should alight.

'See where he goes!' cried one of these two women, an old creature, who
stretched out her shrivelled arm to point him out to her companion, a
young woman, who stood close beside her, withdrawn like herself into a
gateway.

Mrs Brown's daughter looked out, at this bidding on the part of Mrs
Brown; and there were wrath and vengeance in her face.

'I never thought to look at him again,' she said, in a low voice; 'but
it's well I should, perhaps. I see. I see!'

'Not changed!' said the old woman, with a look of eager malice.

'He changed!' returned the other. 'What for? What has he suffered? There
is change enough for twenty in me. Isn't that enough?'

'See where he goes!' muttered the old woman, watching her daughter with
her red eyes; 'so easy and so trim a-horseback, while we are in the
mud.'

'And of it,' said her daughter impatiently. 'We are mud, underneath his
horse's feet. What should we be?'

In the intentness with which she looked after him again, she made a
hasty gesture with her hand when the old woman began to reply, as if her
view could be obstructed by mere sound. Her mother watching her, and not
him, remained silent; until her kindling glance subsided, and she drew a
long breath, as if in the relief of his being gone.

'Deary!' said the old woman then. 'Alice! Handsome gall Ally!' She
gently shook her sleeve to arouse her attention. 'Will you let him go
like that, when you can wring money from him? Why, it's a wickedness, my
daughter.'

'Haven't I told you, that I will not have money from him?' she returned.
'And don't you yet believe me? Di