“What o’ that, Bob? So were you months ago, but it didn’t seem to grieve you then.”
“Why, d’ye see, sir, the years march on a man at the double, but he never heeds until one day he wakes up to find as he is ... forty-five!”
“And her name is Ann!” quoth Sir John.
Here, once again, the ex-corporal’s immutable calm was gravely threatened; he flushed from shaven chin to neat wig, he blinked and swallowed hard, but when he answered his voice was as steady and unemotional as ever:
“Cor-rect, sir!”
“I’m monstrous glad to hear it, Bob. She hath a slender ankle, a low voice, and is, I hazard, as good as she looks! ’Tis high time you thought o’ marrying.”
At this the ex-corporal stared hard at his horse’s ears, from these to the hedges, right and left; finally he spoke:
“Saving your presence, sir, ’tis not to be thought of—not for a moment, your honour. Said young person being scarce turned of twenty years and consequently out o’ the question——”
“Have you mentioned the question to her, Bob?”
“No, sir! Nor intend so to do ... ’twouldn’t be ... be ... ’twouldn’t ... well—’twouldn’t, sir!”