’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. " "Do not doubt me," replied Thames, warmly pressing his hand. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. ‘I doubt it. It’s all outside the world of your experience. Thames, you needn't tidy yourself, as you've hurt your arm.
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