"When they're in a good humour," interposed the dirty-faced man.
"And that's very true," said the placid one.
"I repudiate that qualification," said Mr. Snodgrass, whose thoughts were fast reverting to Emily Wardle, "I repudiate it with disdain—with indignation. Show me the man who says anything against women, as women, and I boldly declare he is not a man. "And Mr. Snodgrass took his cigar from his mouth, and struck the table violently with his clenched fist.
"That's good sound argument," said the placid man.
"Containing a position which I deny," interrupted he of the dirty countenance.
"And there's certainly a very great deal of truth in what you observe too, sir," said the placid gentleman.
"Your health, sir," said the bagman with the lonely eye, bestowing an approving nod on Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment.
"I always like to hear a good argument," continued the bagman, "a sharp one, like this; it's very improving; but this little argument about women brought to my mind a story I have heard an old uncle of mine tell, the recollection of which, just now, made me say there were rummer things than women to be met with, sometimes."
"I should like to hear that same story," said the red-faced man with the cigar.
"Should you?" was the only reply of the bagman, who continued to smoke with great vehemence.
"So should I," said Mr. Tupman, speaking for the first time. He was always anxious to increase his stock of experience.
"Should you? Well then, I'll tell it. No I won't. I know you won't believe it," said the man with the roguish eye, making that organ look more roguish than ever.
"If you say it's true, of course I shall," said Mr. Tupman.
"Well, upon that understanding I'll tell you," replied the traveller. "Did you ever hear of the great commercial house
