He laughed.
"And—I think women are all good," at which he bolted across the garden, called a good-bye, raised his hat, and disappeared through the gate.
"That is the thinnest man I have ever seen," said Nanty somewhat unromantically.
"I don't think he gets enough to eat."
She started.
"Housekeepers are poor sort of creatures—selfish, thoughtless, heartless," I generalised, not having known one.
Nanty looked at the sweet-peas.
"I am sure he is often hungry."
She started again, and getting up from her seat walked across the lawn and back to me.
"Where does he live?" she asked abruptly.