" "You astonish me," said the stranger, in a voice full of emotion. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. He was caked with dried muck. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. ” Then he went on to say: “Well, you’ve had your little adventure, and I hope now you’ve had enough of it. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. And then, “They seem changed.
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