"No," he replied. "I like it."
"That's because you are—"
"Because I'm so fat, you mean."
"Oh no, Mr. Butters, I didn't even think of that; I meant so—"
And then—heavens!—it flashed across her that she had meant "woolly"! To save her soul she could think of no synonyme. Her cheeks turned red.
"I meant—why, of course, I meant—you're so well prepared."
"Well prepared," he grumbled.
"Why, yes, you—men can wear beards, you know."
"Egad! you're right," he roared. "You're right, Miss Primrose. I am well mufflered, that's a fact."
"But, really, it must be a great assistance, Mr. Butters."