Julius LeBlanc Stewart At Home

Julius LeBlanc Stewart At HomeTitian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The Parasol
the murk.
"Well?" she said.
"Well what?" said Cutangle.
"You said you knew all about boats."
"No. I said you didn't."
"Oh."
They hung on as the boat wallowed heavily, miraculously righted itself, and was carried backwards downstream.
"When you said you hadn't been in a boat since you were a boy. . ." Granny began.
"I was two years old, I think."
The boat caught Cutangle shifted uneasily on his bench.
"What have you in mind?" he said.
"The water is supposed to be outside the boat, I know that much!" Granny pointed to the dark tide sloshing around the bilges: "Fill your boots with water and tip it over the side!" on a whirlpool, spun around, and shot off across the flow. "I had you down as the sort of boy who was in and out of boats all day long." "I was born up in the mountains. I get seasick on damp grass, if you must know," said Cutangle. The boat banged heavily against a submerged tree trunk, and a wavelet lapped the prow. "I know a spell against drowning," he added miserably. "I'm glad about that." "Only you have to say it while you're standing on dry land." "Fake your boots off." Granny commanded. "What?" "Take your boots off, man!"
Cutangle nodded. He felt that the last couple of hours had somehow carried him