Bartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child

Bartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and ChildFrancisco de Zurbaran Still lifeAlbert Bierstadt The Last of the Buffalo
touching the sides, and for a moment he nursed the strangely consoling totally beyond his control and whatever happened no one could blame him. Filling his boots with water while adrift on a flooded river at midnight with what he could only describe as a woman seemed about as logical as anything could be in the circumstances.
A fine figure of a woman, said a neglected voice at the back of his mind. There was something about the way she used the tattered broomstick to scull the boat across the choppy water that troubled long-forgotten bits of Cutangle's "No," he said.
"Have you ever heard of anyone coming Back?"
"No."
"Then it's worth a try, isn't it?"subconscious. Not that he could be certain about the fine figure, of course, what with the rain and the wind and Granny's habit of wearing her entire wardrobe in one go. Cutangle cleared his throat uncertainly. Metaphorically a fine figure, he decided. "Um, look," he said. "This is all very creditable, but consider the facts, I mean, the rate of drift and so forth, you see? It could be miles out on the ocean by now. It might never come to shore again. It might even go over the Rimfall." Granny, who had been staring out across the water, turned around. "Can't you think of anything else at all helpful that we could be doing?" she demanded. Cutangle baled for a few moments.