Two pairs of eyes not unused to such people look after him, as, biting his nails and brooding, he crosses the square and is swallowed up by the shadow of the southern gateway. Mr. Guppy and Mr. Weevle are the possessors of those eyes, and they have been leaning in conversation against the low stone parapet under the trees. He passes close by them, seeing nothing but the ground.
"William," says Mr. Weevle, adjusting his whiskers, "there's combustion going on there! It's not a case of spontaneous, but it's smouldering combustion it is."

Two pairs of eyes look after him, as, biting his nails and brooding, he crosses the square and is swallowed up by shadow. Mr. Guppy and Mr. Weevle have been leaning in conversation against the low stone parapet under the trees.
"William," says Mr. Weevle, "there's combustion going on there! It's not spontaneous, but it's smouldering combustion, it is."
