"In fact I offer you five thousand for it here and now," he said. "Ah, here is Miss Joyce in her punt coming for us."
Philip Wroughton dismissed this insignificant interruption.
"Then call to her, Mr. Craddock," he said, "if you will be so good and tell her we shall be ready in five minutes. I cannot raise my voice above the ordinary tone of speech without excruciating pain. She will take a little turn in her punt, and come back for us. You will excuse me if I shut my ears when you shout; a loud noise tears my nerves to ribands."
Arthur Craddock got up.
"I will go and tell her," he said.
"So good of you: I am ashamed to trouble you," said Wroughton, not moving.
He walked down to the edge of the lawn, where was the landing-stage.
"We are talking business, Miss Joyce," he said, "so will you come back for us in five minutes. You have just stepped off some Greek frieze of the best period, let me tell you. I long to recline like a teetotal Silenus of the worst period on those cushions. In five minutes, then?"
Joyce leaned towards him on her punt-pole and spoke low.
"Oh, Mr. Craddock," she said. "Are you talking about the Reynolds? Father told me he was thinking of selling it. Do persuade him not to. I am so fond of it."