is, we came here (my sister and I) to quarrel with you, and affront
you, and break away again.'

'Really?' said Mr. Crisparkle, at a dead loss for anything else to
say.

'You see, we could not know what you were beforehand, sir; could
we?'

'Clearly not,' said Mr. Crisparkle.

'And having liked no one else with whom we have ever been brought
into contact, we had made up our minds not to like you.'

'Really?' said Mr. Crisparkle again.

'But we do like you, sir, and we see an unmistakable difference
between your house and your reception of us, and anything else we
have ever known. This--and my happening to be alone with you--and
everything around us seeming so quiet and peaceful after Mr.
Honeythunder's departure--and Cloisterham being so old and grave
and beautiful, with the moon shining on it--these things inclined
me to open my heart.'

'I quite understand, Mr. Neville. And it is salutary to listen to
such influences.'

'In describing my own imperfections, sir, I must ask you not to
suppose that I am describing my sister's. She has come out of the
disadvantages of our miserable life, as much better than I am, as