"That's about the size of it."
Having locked the last drawer and put out the desk light, Temple led his guest down the long gallery and across the Yard to the house on Charlesbank. Here Ashley pursued kindred themes in the company of Mrs. Fane, finding himself alone with her at tea. He was often alone with her at tea, her father having no taste for this form of refreshment, while her mother found reasons for being absent.
"Queer old cove, your governor," Ashley observed, stretching himself comfortably before the fire. The blaze of logs alone lit up the room.
"Is that why you seem to have taken a fancy to him?"
"I like to hear him gassing. Little bit like the Bible, don't you know."
"He's very fond of the Bible."
"Seems to think a lot of that chap—your governor."
A nod supposed to indicate the direction of the State of Michigan enabled her to follow his line of thought.
"He does. There's something rather colossal about the way he's dropped out—"
"A jolly sight too colossal. Makes him more important than if he'd stayed on the spot and fought the thing to a finish."