AUCTOR. I suppose the Bridge of Boats.
LECTOR. And how far on was that?
AUCTOR. About fourteen miles, more or less ... I passed through a town with a name as long as my arm, and I suppose the Bridge of Boats must have been nine miles on after that.
LECTOR. And it rained all the time, and there was mud?
AUCTOR. Precisely.
LECTOR. Well, then, let us skip it and tell stories.
AUCTOR. With all my heart. And since you are such a good judge of literary poignancy, do you begin.
LECTOR. I will, and I draw my inspiration from your style.
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