This answer seemed to slightly abash Mrs. Webber, who, after gazing around her a little while in silence, suddenly exclaimed: ‘There are those two wretched men, Mr. Wedmold and Mr. Clack, at it again. They stood yesterday afternoon outside my cabin where I was endeavouring to get some sleep, having passed a wretched night, and for a whole hour they argued upon Dickens and Thackeray--which was the greater author--which was the greater novelist. I coughed and coughed but they took no notice. I shall certainly ask Mr. Webber to speak to them if they argue outside my cabin door again. They not only lose their temper, their arguments are childish. Besides, how sickening is this subject of the relative merits of Dickens and Thackeray! Really, to hear people talk now-a-days, one would suppose that the only writers whose names occur in English literature are Dickens and Thackeray. But the truth is, Mrs. Lee, though books are very plentiful in this age, people read little. But they read Dickens and Thackeray, and having mastered these two names they consider themselves qualified to talk about literature. I am truly sick of the subject; and to have to listen for a whole hour when I am trying to get some sleep! I shall certainly ask Mr. Webber to speak to those two men.’ She then declared her intention of enjoying many a long chat with me, repeating that she had an extraordinary imagination, with which, should my memory continue lifeless, she would undertake to construct a past that would answer every purpose of conversation, reference, and so forth. ‘Indeed,’ she exclaimed, ‘I believe with a little thinking, I should be able to create a past for you so close to the truth as, figuratively speaking, to light you to the very door of your home.’ CHAPTER XI I AM SUPPLIED WITH CLOTHES ‘I did not think,’ said Mrs. Lee, when we were alone, ‘that Mrs. Webber had so good an opinion of herself. But she is well meaning, and she will be useful to you.’ ‘Do you think her imagination will help me?’ said I. ‘Until your memory returns,’ she answered; ‘what could she tell you that you would be able to say yes or no to? But let her question you. On a dark morning, without a compass, one can never tell in what quarter the day will break.’ At this moment Captain Ladmore arrived on deck, and he immediately joined us. ‘I hope, madam,’ said he, addressing me, ‘to have the pleasure of seeing you at the saloon table to-day.’ ‘You are extremely good,’ I answered, ‘but I do not yet feel equal to sitting at the saloon table. The privacy of my cabin and the society of Mrs. and Miss Lee, whenever they will endure me, are all that I wish. Besides, I cannot forget----’ I faltered and was silent. ‘What cannot you forget?’ said he gravely. ‘I am not a passenger,’ said I, looking down. ‘What is in your mind when you pronounce the word passenger?’ he asked. ‘A passenger is one who pays,’ I answered. ‘How do you know that?’ said he.