Raisky signed to him to be silent.
“Yes, I am an artist,” Mark went on, “but of a different kind. Your Aunt will have acquainted you with my works.”
“She won’t hear your name mentioned.”
“There you have it. But it was only a matter of a hundred apples or so that I plucked from over the fence.”
“The apples are mine; you may take as many as you like.”
“Many thanks. But why should I need your permission? I am accustomed to do everything in this life without permission. Therefore I will take the apples without your permission, they taste better.”
“I was curious to make your acquaintance. I hear so many tales about you.”
“What do they say?”
“Little that is good.”
“Probably they tell you I am a thief, a monster, the terror of the neighbourhood.”