"Let me tell you that there are others—"
"Pity they didn't come forward sooner!"
In his soul he believed that no family had ever possessed such a guide, philosopher and friend as he had been to them. For much he would not have credited the suggestion that he must share the honour of having befriended them with another.
"If you've got another friend like me up your sleeve you'd best bring him forward, and let him put a little more money into the business. That's what's wanted, Miss Bessie."
He got up from his chair and advanced a step upon her: "Who are these mighty friends then? Out with them."
"Suppose I don't choose to tell you?"
"I should expect you've got your reasons. I will bid you good-afternoon,
Miss Bessie." He thrust out his hand to her.
"What is that for?" Bessie inquired, looking with disdainful curiosity upon the yellow dogskin. "You shouldn't shake hands with a lady with your glove on, Mr. Boult."
At that he drew back the hand, put on his hat, and walked away.
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Boult."