264	ANGEL    PAVEMENT
It's a thing I hate doing. Funny, isn't it? I'd spend
money like water on all sorts of silly rubbish and never
turn a hair, but I hate spending money on paper. Expect
you're the same, aren't you, about something?"
"Pencils," replied Miss Matfield promptly. "I loathe
and detest having to buy pencils. If I can't borrow or
steal one, and actually have to go to a shop and pay
money for one of the wretched things, I simply hate
it"
"Ah, we're all a queer lot, even the best-looking ol
us," Mr. Golspie ruminated while he signed the blank
sheets. "We're all both crooks and old washerwomen
rolled into one, though I expect you'll tell me that you
aren't, eh?"
"No, I shan't. I know exactly what you mean."
If they were on the very edge of a pleasant sympathetic
talk, as it appeared at that moment, then Mr. Golspie
only yanked them miles away at one swoop with his next
remark. "Well, if you do," he said, "you know more than
I do. And that's a nuisance." He looked up, having
finished with the sheets. "Here, you're shivering."
"Am I? I didn't know I was. But I am rather cold
now," she admitted. She was still wearing her thick coat,
but the little saloon was not warmed and there was a
nipping air along the river. *"
"You've finished here now," said Mr. Golspie, looking
at her, "but if you'll take my tip you won't go like that,
you'll have a drink of something to warm you up first.
Might get a cold before you say 'knife.' "
This was Mr. Golspie in a new and unsuspected vein.
She could have laughed in his face.
"If the steward's about/' he continued, "I could get
some tea for you. These people aren't great on tea, but