"How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. Never a new-born dragon-fly that spread its wings in the morning has felt as glad as I!” CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH IN PERSPECTIVE Part 1 About four years and a quarter later—to be exact, it was four years and four months—Mr. Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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