"Yes, it's like thinking of a policeman in the middle of the night."
"I suppose I do look rather like a policeman," said Andy reflectively.
"Yes, you do! That's it, I think." The vague "it" seemed to signify the explanation of the confidence Andy inspired.
"And how about dust and dirt, and getting very hot?" he inquired.
"Isobel says I'm a bit better about courage, but not the least about fastidiousness."
"Fastidiousness suits some people, Miss Wellgood."
"It doesn't suit father, not in me," she murmured with a woeful smile.
"Doesn't thinking about me help you there? On the same principle it ought to."
"It doesn't," she murmured, with a trace of confusion, and suddenly her eyes went blank. Something was in her thoughts that she did not want Andy to see. Was it the butcher's shop? Andy's wits were not quick enough to ask the question; but he saw that her confidential mood had suffered a check.
Her confidence had been very pleasant, but there were other things to listen to at the table. Andy was heart-whole and intellectually voracious.