As the stranger approached, Shola noticed that he was handsome and her excitement increased. It was of such a man she had dreamt. He had fine, arrogant carriage, like a soldier or someone in authority. When he reached the end of the pier, he addressed them in a rich, deep voice that disturbed her as the voluptuous rising of the tide had done. ‘You’re Tunde Onu, I’m told’, he said to her father. ‘That’s right, said her father.
‘The bus conductor told me you take people to the islands’, the man continued. I’d like to go there if you can take me. Her father examined the man from head to foot, shrewdly measuring his capacity to pay. Then he said: ‘When were you thinking of going?’ ‘Right away’.  ‘That’s different story, for my boatman is gone to Badagry and he won’t be back before nightfall. ‘Oh!’ said the stranger. That’s too bad. You couldn’t get someone else instead of him? ‘I would have to think hard!’, he said gloomily, for it's not everyone who would do for the job of going with me beyond the bay to the islands at this time of the year. Shola understood her father’s manoeuvre and felt ashamed.