"I meant a lean soul."
"Whatever may that be, dear?"
Always, when these problems presented themselves for solution, Fancy would hesitate and blush a little, which hugely delighted Alfred, who set himself the pleasant task of framing questions during his drives to and from Salisbury to be answered on the next Sunday.
Having taken time to collect her powers of speech, Fancy said solemnly:
"Some rich people as well as poor have lean souls."
"Rich people? Do you know any rich people?"
"No, but David says so."
"David? You don't mean David Mucklow? He's a pore soul, sure enough."
"I was speaking of King David, who wrote the Psalms. When people's bodies wax fat with riches, their souls grow lean."
Alfred nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He weighed an honest fifteen stone.