Amory had once lived in the South, and he accented the "no" very takingly.

"I came myself," he volunteered.
"I thought," explained Antoinette, "that maybe he opened a door in the dark, and you walked out.

It _is_ rather funny that you should be here." "You are here, you know," suggested Amory doubtfully.
"But I may be a cannibal princess," Antoinette demurely pointed out.
It was not that her astonishment was decreasing; but why--modernity and the democracy spoke within her--waste the possibilities of a situation merely because it chances to be astonishing?
Moments of mystery are rare enough, in all conscience; and when they do arrive all the world misses them by trying to understand them.

Which is manifestly ungrateful and stupid.

They do these things better in Yaque.
"You maybe," agreed Amory evenly, "though I don't know that I ever met a desert island princess in a dinner frock.