She paused and looked up at him, a little mystified.
"Do the fishermen in Norfolk read Shakespeare and Keats?" she asked. "And French books, too, De Maupassant and De Musset?"
"They are my lodger's," Andrew answered. "This is his room. I sit in the kitchen when I am at home."
His dialect was more marked than ever, and his answer had been delivered without any hesitation. Nevertheless, Jeanne was still a little puzzled.
"May I come into the kitchen, please?" she asked.
"Certainly," he answered. "You will find Mr. Berners' servant there getting tea ready."
Jeanne peeped in, and looked back at Andrew, who was standing behind her.
"What a lovely stone floor!" she exclaimed. "And your copper kettle, too, is delightful! Do you mean that when you have not a lodger here, you cook and do everything for yourself?"
"There are times," he answered composedly, "when I have a little assistance. It depends upon whether the fishing season has been good."
Berners came in, and threw himself into an easychair in the sitting-room.