Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. I have been stupid and foolish. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. I can vouch for that. But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. Brown or Jones, I dare say.
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