“My dear lady, I—I hope we shall.”
Talk about being at a loss for words! I could have poured out thousands. Only just then my dictionary had all its pages torn out, and I didn’t know where to lay my hand upon one of them.
“It is my father you have come to see.”
“Your father?”
I had forgotten what had brought me. Everything but the fact that she was standing there, in the moonlight, within reach of me, had passed from my mind. Her words brought me back to earth with a bang. Her father? Was it possible that I had come to see her father? She, the daughter of the gods; what manner of man must be her sire? I stuttered and I stammered.
“I—I didn’t understand I’d come to see your father.”
“He is the Great Joss.”
“The Great Joss?”
What on earth did she mean? What was a Joss, anyhow, great or little? I had heard of joss-sticks, though I only had a hazy notion what they were. But a real live Joss, who could be the father of such a daughter, was a new kind of creature altogether. She offered no explanation.
“He waits for you. I am here to bring you to him. Come.”