Colin laughed.
“That’s a very sound observation,” he said. “But you ought to have told me I was already late for breakfast. Never mind, give me my clothes. I’ve got a lot to do. Yes, shirt and trousers and shoes. That’s all I want.”
Nino, but for a towel round his loins, was still as Nature had made him. But she had done it very nicely, and as he handed his master his clothes, Colin looked at his shapely shoulders and broad chest.
“You’d make an awfully good bronze statue, Nino,” he said. “You’d look nice in a museum, covered with verdigris, and with an arm and leg missing. How would you like to be an antique?”
“I like better being young,” said Nino.
Colin pulled his shirt over his head.
“So do I,” he said. “But Time’s a thief, Nino, and you can’t insure against his burglaries.”
This was too much for Nino’s English, and he raised a puzzled eye.
“You understand what I mean, though you don’t understand what I say,” observed Colin. “Do you believe in God, Nino?”
The boy crossed himself.