John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. “I’ll come to the station,” said Ann Veronica. Never had he been so intrigued.
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