“Same to you,” says Mark. “Hope you’re f-f-feelin’ well.”
“Oh, I am feeling splendidly well, very splendidly well, indeed. You have pretty little bridges that go up in air with sudden surprisingness,” says he, and grins again.
“We like it pretty well ourselves,” says Mark.
“I am talking,” says The Man Who Will Come, “for purpose of argument with you to lowering down the bridge from there.”
“We like it up p-p-pretty well.”
“Bridges are for walking across waters with dry feet. I would desire to walk across this water shod-dry to you.”
“We get a good view of you where you are. If you came nearer you m-m-might spoil the effect.”
“Have you seen little bad Japanese boy that goes running off away from kind fathers and uncles?” says he, with another broad grin.
I guess he was being sarcastic some.
“Japanese boy!” Mark pretended to look all over except where Motu was standing. “I don’t calc’late to see any Japanese boy.”