May I leave them?"
"Oh, come in, come in, Mr. Turl," called out Miss Kenby's father himself
from the fireside.
"Thank you, no; I won't intrude."
"But you must; I want to see you," Mr. Kenby insisted, fussily getting
to his feet.
Larcher asked himself where he had heard the name of Turl. Before his
memory could answer, the person addressed by that name entered the room
in a politely hesitating manner, bowed, and stood waiting for father
and daughter to be seated. He was none other than the smooth-faced,
pleasant-looking young man with the trim appearance and erect attitude.
Larcher sat open-eyed and dumb.
Mr. Kenby was for not only throwing his attention entirely around the
newcomer, but for snubbing Larcher utterly forthwith; seeing which,
Florence took upon herself the office of introducing the two young men.
Mr. Turl, in resting his eyes on Larcher, showed no consciousness of
having encountered him before. They were blue eyes, clear and soft, and
with something kind and well-wishing in their look. Larcher found the
whole face, now that it was animated with a sense of his existence,
pleasanter than ever. He found himself attracted by it; and all the
more for that did he wonder at the young man's appearance in the house
of his acquaintances, after those numerous appearances in his wake in
the street.
Mr. Kenby now took exclusive possession of Mr. Turl, and while those two
were discussing the qualities of the cigars, Larcher had an opportunity
of asking Florence, quietly:
"Who is your visitor? Have you known him long?"
"Only three or four days.
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