“He said, too, that Joe was a Saxon type. What would that be?”
“Which is Joe? With the blue eyes and red face?”
“Yes. My uncle's nephew.”
“Not your cousin, then?”
“No.”
“Well, he meant that Joe was like the men who came over to England about fourteen hundred years ago, and conquered it.”
“Oh! I know about them; but is he?”
“Garton's crazy about that sort of thing; but I must say Joe does look a bit Early Saxon.”
“Yes.”
That “Yes” tickled Ashurst. It was so crisp and graceful, so conclusive, and politely acquiescent in what was evidently. Greek to her.