She wavered.
"And you can cut me afterwards," I added.
The corners of her mouth twitched.
"Your arguments," she said, "are most persuasive."
We pulled the two punts alongside each other and fastened them to the bank. By this time Winston Churchill seemed to have accepted me as a harmless and necessary evil. He sat up in the stern and watched me with intelligent interest, while I completed my preparations for lunch.
"You are in his good books now," said the bronze-haired girl, stroking him gently down the back with her fingers. "He thinks that people who provide food cannot be altogether bad."
I handed her the plate.
"To give tongue," I said, "is the recognized method of expressing friendship in canine circles."
"And, I suppose, giving the only plate implies the same idea amongst human beings?"
"George and I generally eat off paper," I replied. "We prefer it. We are leading the simple life."