'And I'd better be getting back to my lodgings,' she said.
'I'll accompany you,' said Carrot, quickly. 'I ought to go and find Captain Vimes in any case.'
'It'll be out of your way . . .'
'Honestly, I'd like to.'
She looked at his earnest expression.
'I couldn't put you to the trouble,' she said.
'That's all right. I like walking. It helps me think.'
Angua smiled, despite her desperation.
They stepped out into the softer heat of the evening. Instinctively, Carrot settled into the policeman's pace.
'Very old street, this,' he said. 'They say there's an underground stream under it. I read that. What do you think?'
'Do you really like walking?' said Angua, falling into step.
'Oh, yes. There are many interesting byways and historical buildings to be seen. I often go for walks on my day off.'
She looked at his face. Ye gods, she thought.
'Why did you join the Watch?' she said.
'My father said it'd make a man of me.'
'It seems to have worked.'
'Yes. It's the best job there is.'
'Really?'
'Oh, yes. Do you know what “policeman” means?'
Angua shrugged. 'No.'
'It means “man of the polis”. That's an old word for city.'
'Yes?'
'I read it in a book. Man of the city.'
She glanced sideways at him again. His face glowed in the light of a torch on the street corner, but it had some inner glow of its own.
He's proud. She remembered the oath.
Proud of being in the damn Watch, for gods 'sake—
'Why did you join?' he said.
'Me? Oh, I . . . I like to eat meals and sleep indoors. Anyway, there isn't that much choice, is there? It was that or become . . . hah . . . a seamstress.'[10]
'And you're not very good at sewing?'
Angua's sharp glance saw nothing but honest innocence in his face.