How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges.
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