The nuggety seaman opposite grinned. “No need fer that at all, boyo!” he said, in a pleasant Welsh borders lilt.

He was a serial entrepreneur, always coming up with a new way to make cash.

The sacred streams which Heaven's imperial state / Attests in oaths, and fears to violate.

“Maybe I just wanted to come and see for myself if you were real. Or if you were a figment of my imagination.” The barb hurt, but she didn't blame him.