"Alas, Imp!" I said, shaking my head, "Fortune seems to preclude all chances of it."
"'Course you wouldn't," he exclaimed; "an' Ivanhoe wouldn't—"
"Ah, but he did!" I put in; "have you forgotten Rowena?"
"Oh!" cried the Imp dolefully, "do you really think he ever put his arm round her?"
"Sure of it," I nodded. The Imp seemed much cast down, and even shocked.
"But there was the Black Knight," he said, brightening suddenly—"Richard of the Lion Heart, you know—he never did!"
"Not while he was fighting, of course, but afterwards, if history is to be believed, he very frequently did; and we are all alike, Imp—everybody does sooner or later."
"But why? Why should any one want to put their arm round a girl, Uncle Dick?"
"For the simple reason that the girl is there to put it round, I suppose. And now, Imp, let us talk of fish."
Instinctively we had wandered towards the river, and now we stood to watch the broad, silver path made by the moon across the mystery of its waters.