'I should take more for granted if I were.

How do we come together--or so near together--so very unexpectedly ?' Unexpectedly indeed, among the dingy gables and chimney-pots of P.J.
T.'s connection, and the flowers that had sprung from the salt sea.

But Rosa, waking, told in a hurry how they came to be together, and all the why and wherefore of that matter.
'And Mr.Crisparkle is here,' said Rosa, in rapid conclusion; 'and, could you believe it?
long ago he saved his life!' 'I could believe any such thing of Mr.Crisparkle,' returned Helena, with a mantling face.
(More blushes in the bean-stalk country!) 'Yes, but it wasn't Crisparkle,' said Rosa, quickly putting in the correction.
'I don't understand, love.' 'It was very nice of Mr.Crisparkle to be saved,' said Rosa, 'and he couldn't have shown his high opinion of Mr.Tartar more expressively.
But it was Mr.Tartar who saved him.' Helena's dark eyes looked very earnestly at the bright face among the leaves, and she asked, in a slower and more thoughtful tone: 'Is Mr.Tartar with you now, dear ?' 'No; because he has given up his rooms to me--to us, I mean.

It is such a beautiful place!' 'Is it ?' 'It is like the inside of the most exquisite ship that ever sailed.

It is like--it is like--' 'Like a dream ?' suggested Helena.
Rosa answered with a little nod, and smelled the flowers.
Helena resumed, after a short pause of silence, during which she seemed (or it was Rosa's fancy) to compassionate somebody: 'My poor Neville is reading in his own room, the sun being so very bright on this side just now.