"It'll take ages to get that smell out," said Janet ruefully, "and your hair, too, Nigel—when'll that look decent again?"
"I say, stop your personal remarks, you two—and give me something to eat. I'm all one aching void."
Janet took the soup off the fire, and slopped it into three blue bowls. Nigel went round the table, setting straight the spoons and forks, which Janey seemed to have flung on from a distance.
"What's that for?" she asked.
The young man started, then flushed slightly.
"Hullo! I didn't notice what I was doing. I always had to do that in prison."
"Put things straight?—what a good idea!"
"Yes. Everything had to be straight—in rows. Ugh!"
For the first time he looked self-conscious.