And, whilst all his belongings were rotting into dust, he retained an extraordinarily youthful and ingenuous habit of mind.

It was that, or a little of it, that gave the charm to my Jenkins story.
It was a disagreeable experience.

I wished so much that the perennial hopefulness of the man should at last escape deferring and I was afraid that Churchill would chill before Jenkins had time to thaw.

But, as I have said, I think Churchill understood.

He smiled his kindly, short-sighted smile over canvas after canvas, praised the right thing in each, remembered having seen this and that in such and such a year, and Jenkins thawed.
He happened to leave the room--to fetch some studies, to hurry up the tea or for some such reason.