"The thing, it seems to me, that will possibly save Tad is that he's got to keep himself fit in case war breaks out."
That was her main suggestion. Tad couldn't afford to throw himself away when his country might, within a few weeks, have urgent need of him. He couldn't, by over indulgence let himself run down physically, as he couldn't by neglecting his work put himself mentally at a disadvantage. He must be fit. She liked the word—fit for his business as a soldier.
"That's just what would appeal to him when nothing else might," Tom commended. "I wish you'd take it up with him."
"I will; but you must too."
"If I get a chance; but I daresay I shan't get one."
She had a way of asking a leading question without emphasis. Any emphasis it got it drew from the long oblique regard which gave her the air of a woman with more experience than was possible to her years.
"Why do you care?"
He had to hedge. "Oh, I don't know. He's just a fellow. I don't want to see him turn out a rotter."
"If he turned out a rotter would you care more than if it was anybody else?"
"M-m-m! Perhaps so! I wouldn't swear to it."