In his defiantly heathen mood he suddenly found himself chuckling, as he stared at those little periodic water-tongues leaping up in that brown puddle; for he recalled the opinion that Bob Weevil had expressed to him recently, that girls’ legs were the most beautiful thing in the world. “Weevil and I are both lucky in one way,” he thought. “We both have the sort of intense life-illusion that protects human beings from the futility of the commonplace. But, oh God, oh God! I wish I hadn’t taken this two hundred pounds, and I wish Mr. Malakite wasn’t going to Weymouth tomorrow!”