»Hem! It's a sort of a general kind of expression, sir,« said Mrs. Plornish.
    »Is it?« said Pancks. »Why, then Altro to you, old chap. Good afternoon.
Altro!«
    Mr. Baptist in his vivacious way repeating the word several times, Mr.
Pancks in his duller way gave it him back once. From that time it became a
frequent custom with Pancks the gipsy, as he went home jaded at night, to pass
round by Bleeding Heart Yard, go quietly up the stairs, look in at Mr. Baptist's
door, and, finding him in his room, to say »Hallo, old chap! Altro!« To which
Mr. Baptist would reply, with innumerable bright nods and smiles, »Altro,
signore, altro, altro, altro!« After this highly condensed conversation, Mr.
Pancks would go his way; with an appearance of being lightened and refreshed.
 

                                  Chapter XXVI

                            Nobody's State of Mind.

If Arthur Clennam had not arrived at that wise decision firmly to restrain
himself from loving Pet, he would have lived on in a state of much perplexity,
involving difficult struggles with his own heart. Not the least of these would
have been a contention, always waging within it, between a tendency to dislike
Mr. Henry Gowan, if not to regard him with positive repugnance, and a whisper
that the inclination was unworthy. A generous nature is not prone to strong
aversions, and is slow to admit them even dispassionately; but when it finds
ill-will gaining upon it, and can discern between-whiles that its origin is not
dispassionate, such a nature becomes distressed.
    Therefore Mr. Henry Gowan would have clouded Clennam's mind, and would have
been far oftener present to it than more agreeable persons and subjects, but for
the great prudence of his decision aforesaid. As it was, Mr. Gowan seemed
transferred to Daniel Doyce's mind; at all events, it so happened that it
usually fell to Mr. Doyce's turn, rather than to Clennam's, to speak of him in
the friendly conversations they held together. These were of frequent occurrence
now; as the two partners shared a portion of a roomy house in one of the grave
old-fashioned City streets, lying not far from the Bank of England, by London
Wall.
    Mr. Doyce had been to Twickenham to pass the day. Clennam had excused
himself. Mr. Doyce was just come home. He put in his head at the door of
Clennam's