"A boy of my own age called Highton was so violently incensed by the whole affair that he said to me before lunch that day, 'You don't have a father. I do. I am going to write to my father and tell him what has happened and he'll do something about it.'
'He couldn't do anything,' I said.
'Oh yes he could,' Highton said. 'And what's more he will. My father won't let them get away with this.'
'Where is he now?'
'He's in Greece,' Highton said. 'In Athens. But that won't make any difference.'
Then and there, little Highton sat down and wrote to the father he admired so much, but of course nothing came of it. It was nevertheless a touching and generous gesture from one small boy to another and I have never forgotten it." (p. 122)