“Dear policeman,” continued Richard.  “I believe you have talked so much to-night that you haven’t heard what a quiet night it is.  You are smaller than a star, and yet you make more noise than all the stars together.  You are not so cold as the moon, and yet your teeth chatter more loudly than hers.  The heat of your wrath is less than the heat of the sun, and yet, while he is silent and departed, you fill the air with clamour, and—­if I may say so—­seem to be outstaying your welcome.  Oh, dear policeman, listen....  Do you know, if there were no London on this side and no War on that, the silence would be deep enough to fill all the seas of all the worlds....”

He shook the reins, and the Horse Vivian moved, treading quietly on the strip of grass that borders the path to the ferry.

“I am going to talk to my True Love now,” said Richard, his voice fading away as he rode.  “My True Love’s voice is the only voice that is a little more beautiful to me than silence....”

For a moment he looked every inch a wizard.  Every button on his uniform and every buckle on the Horse Vivian’s harness caught the moonlight, and changed into faery spangles as he turned and waved his hand before disappearing.

The policeman seemed quieted, as he looked at Sarah Brown sitting, white and haggard with pain, on the river bank, with her arm round the shivering David.

“In a minute, in a minute, my One,” she was saying to David.  “We are nearly home now.  We shall soon be quiet now.”

There was always something startlingly inoffensive about Sarah Brown’s appearance.

“I’d like to know ’oo was responsible for this houtrage, all the same,” said the policeman.

Sarah Brown did not hear him, but she said:  “Oh, I am so very sorry it happened.  It was a pure accident, of course, but it is so terrible to see any one have an accident to his dignity.  You must forget it quickly, you must run and find someone who knows you at your best, you must tell her a fine revised version of the incident, and then you will feel better.”

The ferryman shouted:  “I don’t mind coming in now to fetch this young woman.  You can come too now if you like, Mr. Pompous-in-the-Pond, for the party you’re looking for is not at home, and I’ve no doubt but what that crowd over there will give you a gay welcome.”

“I’ll look into the metter to-morrer,” said the policeman.  “You ’aven’t ’eard the last of this, none of you ’aven’t, not by a long chalk.  I’ve a good mind to get the Mayor to read the Riot Act at you.”

As Sarah Brown landed on Mitten Island she could not distinguish the faces of the waiting crowd, but she heard sharp anxious voices.

“They ain’t goin’ to get ’er, not if I knows it.”

“She never speaks but kindness, the dear lamb.”

“She’s more of a saint than any in the Calendar.”

“She gave my Danny a room in ’er house, and put ’eart into ’im after ’e lost ’is sight in the War.”