Now I'm going to do the civil to Mrs.
Germain."
Senhouse had turned away, and was leaning over the bulwarks, lost in his
thoughts. He remained there until the passage was over.
Mr. Chevenix, having approached the lady with all forms observed, made
himself happy in her company, as, indeed, he did in all. "Now this is very
jolly, Mrs. Germain, I must say. I'm a companionable beggar, I believe;
and here I was in a ship where I didn't know a living soul until I met you
and Senhouse. Didn't even know that you knew Senhouse. Queer fish, eh? Oh,
the queerest fish in the sea! But you know all that, of course."
Mrs. Germain, a brunette with the power of glowing, coloured becomingly,
and veiled her fine eyes with somewhat heavy and heavily-fringed eye-lids.
"Oh, yes," she said, "I have known him for a long time."
"Met him abroad, I suppose--tinkering round, as he does. The everlasting
loafer, artist, tinker, poet, gardener. 'Pon my soul, he's like the game
we used to do with cherry-stones round the pudding plate. Don't you know?
Soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, and all the rest. He's all those things,
and has two pair of bags to his name, and lives in a cart, and's a
gentleman.
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