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"The usual noises," Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by

the question and by her aspect.

"I don't hear you," said Miss Pross. "What do you say?"

It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss

Pross could not hear him. "So I'll nod my head," thought Mr.

Cruncher, amazed, "at all events she'll see that." And she did.

"Is there any noise in the streets now?" asked Miss Pross again,

presently.

Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head.

"I don't hear it."

"Gone deaf in an hour?" said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his

mind much disturbed; "wot's come to her?"

"I feel," said Miss Pross, "as if there had been a flash and a

crash, and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in

this life."

"Blest if she ain't in a queer condition!" said Mr. Cruncher,

more and more disturbed. "Wot can she have been a takin', to keep

her courage up? Hark! There's the roll of them dreadful carts!

You can hear that, miss?"