"Exactly—we can both afford it!—I knew, somehow, you'd be kind."
"Did you?" She chuckled, inwardly pleased. "You seem to take a lot for granted. May I ask the reason why?"
"Well—if you want to know..." he smiled. "No—I'd better not." He checked himself mischievously, studying her face.
"Jill, I suppose, or, perhaps, Roddy?—I sent that young rascal a hamper lately—I expect he's been deceiving you! I only do it because, as it happens, Mrs. Belsey likes cooking. And I don't eat cakes myself—so it pleases her—and I hate waste!"
"No. Roddy's been most discreet!" He paused, then risked it, laughing.
"I guessed it from your beautiful hands! There's such a lot of character to be learnt from hands——" he went on calmly, enjoying her indignant surprise. "I always judge people by them, and I'm never very far wrong!"
"You're a very impertinent young man!"
The smile she could no longer repress robbed the words of their sting—"Now before I answer your ... rigmarole—I want to think."
McTaggart nodded. He was well pleased with his mission and he felt a personal interest in this singular new acquaintance, with her sharp tongue and kind eyes.
Absently, from a black silk bag, Miss Uniacke drew a bundle of wool and began to knit rapidly, thinking aloud, between the stitches.