Never again!" "Oh, dire tragedy!" And he stretched himself out on the turf with his arms above his head--"But what does it matter! Give me your news, silly child! What did the 'little wonderful white woman' say to you ?" "You want to know ?" "I think so! I am conscious of a certain barbaric spirit of curiosity, like that of a savage who sees a photograph of himself for the first time! Yes! I want to know what the modern feminine said to the primitive!" Manella gave an impatient gesture.
"I do not understand all your fine words"-- she said--"But I will answer you.

I told her about you--how you had come to live in the hut for the dying on the hill rather than at the Plaza--and how I took to you all the food you asked for, and she seemed amused--" "Amused ?" he echoed.
"Yes--amused.

She laughed,--she looks very pretty when she laughs.
And--and she seemed to fancy--" He lifted himself upright in a sitting posture.
"Seemed to fancy?
...

what?
--" "That I was not bad to look at--" and Manella, gathering sudden boldness, lifted her dark eyes to his face--"She said I could tell you that she thinks me quite beautiful! Yes!--quite beautiful!" He smiled--a smile that was more like a sneer.
"So you are! I've told you so, often.

'There needs no ghost come from the grave' to emphasise the fact.