“Some afternoon. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. Presently he felt motion. ‘A devil is just what you are. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack. He raised her to a sitting position. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. " Which was literally the truth. He did his best not to grin.
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