"O no," said Pauline, with a half smile. "It is a long time since I left France." "Ah, so I should think," said Mrs. Mogg, "by your civilised ways of going on, let alone your speaking our language so capital. Mogg, meaning my husband, was in France once, at Boolong, with the Foresters' excursion, and thought very high of the living he got during the two hours he was there." "Ah, you have a husband," said Pauline, beginning to lapse into dreariness. "O yes, ma'am, and as good a husband as woman could wish, a hard-working man, and taking no holidays save with the Foresters to the Crystal Palace, Easter Mondays, and suchlike. He's in the docks is Mogg." "In the docks," said Pauline; "he would know, then, all about ships?" "O no, ma'am," said Mrs. Mogg, with a slight toss of the head; "that's the Katherine's Docks you are thinking of where the General Steam goes from. Hogg is in the West-Injia Docks: he's in the sale-room--horns and hides, and other foreign produce." "Then he has nothing to do with ships?" "Nothing at all, ma'am. It would be easier work for him if he had, though more outdoor work; but his is terrible hard work, more especially on sale days. He's regular tired out to-night, poor man; for to-day has been a sale day, and Mogg was at it from morning till night, attending to Mr. Calverley's consignments." "Mr. Calverley!" cried Pauline, roused at last; "do you know him?" "O no, not I, ma'am," said the landlady, "only through hearing of him from Mogg. He's one of the largest merchants in horns and hides is Mr. Calverley, and there is never a shipload comes in but he takes most of it. Mogg has done business for him--leastways for the house, for when Mogg knew it first Mr. Calverley was only a clerk there--for the last thirty years." "Is Mr. Calverley married?" "O yes, ma'am. He married Mrs. Gurwood, which was Miss Lorraine before she married Mr. Gurwood, who killed himself with drink and carryings-on. A pious lady, Mrs. Calverley, though haughty and stand-offish, and, they do say, keeping Mr. C.'s nose to the grindstone close." "And Mr. Calverley, what is he like?" "Not much to look at, ma'am, but the kindest and the best of men. My nephew Joe is light-porter in their house; and the way in which Mr. Calverley behaves to him--half-holiday here, half-a-crown there, Christmas-boxes regular, and cold meat and beer whenever he goes up to the house--no tongue can tell. Likewise most bountiful to Injuns and foreigners of all kinds, Spaniards and that like, providing for children and orphans, and getting them into hospitals, or giving them money to go back to their own country." "Where is Mr. Calverley's address--his business address; his office I mean?"