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Chapter 2 Fellow Travellers

           Theycrossedthebarescorchedterraceallthreetogether,anddisappearedthroughastaringwhitearchway.MrMeagles’scompanion,agravedarkmanofforty,stillstoodlookingtowardsthisarchwayaftertheyweregone;untilMrMeaglestappedhimonthearm.

           ‘Ibegyourpardon,’saidhe,starting.

           ‘Notatall,’saidMrMeagles.

           Theytookonesilentturnbackwardandforwardintheshadeofthewall,getting,attheheightonwhichthequarantinebarracksareplaced,whatcoolrefreshmentofseabreezetherewasatseveninthemorning.MrMeagles’scompanionresumedtheconversation.

           ‘MayIaskyou,’hesaid,‘whatisthenameof—’

           ‘Tattycoram?’MrMeaglesstruckin.‘Ihavenottheleastidea.’

           ‘Ithought,’saidtheother,‘that—’

           ‘Tattycoram?’suggestedMrMeaglesagain.

           ‘Thankyou—thatTattycoramwasaname;andIhaveseveraltimeswonderedattheoddityofit.’

           ‘Why,thefactis,’saidMrMeagles,‘MrsMeaglesandmyselfare,yousee,practicalpeople.’

           ‘Thatyouhavefrequentlymentionedinthecourseoftheagreeableandinterestingconversationswehavehadtogether,walkingupanddownonthesestones,’saidtheother,withahalfsmilebreakingthroughthegravityofhisdarkface.

           ‘Practicalpeople.Sooneday,fiveorsixyearsagonow,whenwetookPettochurchattheFoundling—youhaveheardoftheFoundlingHospitalinLondon?SimilartotheInstitutionfortheFoundChildreninParis?’

           ‘Ihaveseenit.

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