She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. "You dropped this, sir. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. I sent a message straight. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Rats and things crawling all over. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. “Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination. It was not your fault you failed. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head.
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