It's what Bows says, if there were twenty men in a
room, and one not taking notice of her, she wouldn't be satisfied
until the twentieth was at her elbow."
"You should have her mother with her," said Pen, laughing.
"She must keep the lodge. She can't see so much of her family as she
used. I can't, you know, sir, go on with that lot. Consider my rank in
life," said Huxter, putting a very dirty hand up to his chin.
"_Au fait_" said Mr. Pen, who was infinitely amused, and concerning
whom _mutato nomine_ (and of course concerning nobody else in the
world) the fable might have been narrated.
As the two gentlemen were in the midst of this colloquy, another knock
came to Pen's door, and his servant presently announced Mr. Bows. The
old man followed slowly, his pale face blushing, and his hand
trembling somewhat as he took Pen's. He coughed, and wiped his face in
his checked cotton pocket-handkerchief, and sat down, with his hands
on his knees, the sun shining on his bald head.
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