"Andrew is Scotch, Single, and Skeptical. He is a great pal of mine and also an official of the Agricultural Bank which is by way of being a Government institution. These are the togs of his Hieland Grandsire—"
"Why didn't you bring him?"
"Too dead, unfortunately—grandsires often are—"
"I mean Andrew McLean."
"It would take you, my dear Jinny, to do that. You brought me—and I can believe in anything after the surprise of finding myself here."
Jinny Jeffries laughed. "If I could only believe what you say!"
"Oh, you can believe anything I say," Jack obligingly assured her. "I'm very careful what I say—"
"I wish I were."
"You'd have to be careful how you look, Jinny—and you can't help that. The Lord who gave you red hair must provide the way to elude its consequences.... I suppose the Orient isn't exactly a manless Sahara for you?"
She countered, her bright eyes intent, "Is it a girl-less Sahara for you, Jack?"