‘In general much blacker,’ returned Mrs. Sparsit, in her uncompromising way.
‘Is it possible! Excuse me: you are not a native, I think?’
‘No, sir,’ returned Mrs. Sparsit. ‘It was once my good or ill fortune, as it may be — before I became a widow — to move in a very different sphere. My husband was a Powler.’
‘Beg your pardon, really!’ said the stranger. ‘Was — ?’
Mrs. Sparsit repeated, ‘A Powler.’
‘Powler Family,’ said the stranger, after reflecting a few moments. Mrs. Sparsit signified assent. The stranger seemed a little more fatigued than before.