 is.«
    »Aye, aye, aye?« said Mr. Meagles, with much interest. »Indeed, indeed? We
shall be glad to see him. We'll entertain him as well as we can, in our humble
way; and we shall not starve him, I hope, at all events.«
    In the beginning of this dialogue, Clennam had expected some great harmless
outburst from Mr. Meagles, like that which had made him burst out of the
Circumlocution Office, holding Doyce by the collar. But his good friend had a
weakness which none of us need go into the next street to find, and which no
amount of Circumlocution experience could long subdue in him. Clennam looked at
Doyce; but Doyce knew all about it beforehand, and looked at his plate, and made
no sign, and said no word.
    »I am much obliged to you,« said Gowan, to conclude the subject. »Clarence
is a great ass, but he is one of the dearest and best fellows that ever lived!«
    It appeared, before the breakfast was over, that everybody whom this Gowan
knew was either more or less of an ass, or more or less of a knave; but was,
notwithstanding, the most lovable, the most engaging, the simplest, truest,
kindest, dearest, best fellow that ever lived. The process by which this
unvarying result was attained, whatever the premises, might have been stated by
Mr. Henry Gowan thus: »I claim to be always book-keeping, with a peculiar
nicety, in every man's case, and posting up a careful little account of Good and
Evil with him. I do this so conscientiously, that I am happy to tell you I find
the most worthless of men to be the dearest old fellow too; and am in a
condition to make the gratifying report, that there is much less difference than
you are inclined to suppose between an honest man and a scoundrel.« The effect
of this cheering discovery happened to be, that while he seemed to be
scrupulously finding good in most men, he did in reality lower it where it was,
and set it up where it was not; but that was its only disagreeable or dangerous
feature.
    It scarcely seemed, however, to afford Mr. Meagles as much satisfaction as
the Barnacle genealogy had done. The cloud that Clennam had never seen upon his
face before that morning, frequently overcast it again; and there was the same
shadow of uneasy observation of him on the comely face of his wife. More than
once or twice
