Susan does agree on one part of that, off what little 'Ponine has told her: she doubts this 'Parnasse fellow is stupid. Stupid might, it seems to her, be better than what 'Ponine has described. Stupid men aren't usually so deft in dragging a girl's mind along with them - not unless she's stupid, too. And 'Ponine seems pitiful, and more than a little desperate, but not entirely stupid.

She doesn't say any of that, though, just raises her hands pacifyingly when 'Ponine snaps at her, and gives an apologetic look before settling back against the wall.

"We ain't, you know," she says, after a moment. "You ain't. I've met real scum, the kind who'll--" Who'll put a knife to their girl's throat for kicks, she almost says, but stops herself in time. "--who'll make others crawl and lick their boots for naught but the joy of it. And who'll lock folk up for no reason but that they don't like the look of 'em." Her lip curls, her grey eyes flicking pointedly towards the nearest guard. "They can think we're scum all they like, but don't 'ee make it easier for 'em to do it. Ye said it yourself, so ye did - ye're not a murderer. And ye don't strike me as aught else terrible, either. The scum's up there." She points, rather aimlessly, at the tower that just protrudes over the high wall of the courtyard. "Didn't anyone ever tell 'ee it rises to the top?"