“N—no,” said Andy. “Only a dinner party. But I took a walk in the churchyard afterwards.”
It sounded lame, and Andy was conscious, as the words died on his lips, that it had so sounded. “I’m a tremendous person for fresh air,” he added.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Simpson.
And that was all she did say—then.
“Well, I must be going,” said Andy, using the formula which no parson ever escapes.
Mrs. Simpson held out her hand, and glanced at her apparel.
“You’ll excuse me rising,” she said, “but I—er—can’t.”
“Of course,” said Andy hastily, seeking refuge behind a clerical distance of manner. “Good-day.”
But the dawn was rising so glorious over the odd little group that he was moved to add impulsively—
“I am thankful you’re all right, Mrs. Simpson.”