She looked into King's eyes with challenging familiarity that made him smile, and then eyed me wonderingly.

She glanced from me to a picture on the wall in blue of the Elephant-god--enormous, opulent, urbane, and then back again at me, and smiled very sweetly.
"So you have brought Ganesha with you?
The god of good luck! How wonderful! How does one behave toward a real god ?" And while she said that she laid her hands on King's arms as naturally as if he were a lover whom she had not seen perhaps since yesterday.
Plainly, there was absolutely nothing between him and her except his own obstinate independence.

She was his if he wanted her.
She took King's hand with a laugh that had its roots in past companionship and led him to the middle, deepest window-seat, beneath which the river could be heard gurgling busily.
Then, when she had drawn the silken hangings until the softened light suggested lingering, uncounted hours, and had indicated with a nod to me a cushion in the corner, she came and lay on the cushions close to King, chin on hand, where she could watch his eyes.
King sat straight and square, watching her with caution that he did not trouble to conceal.

She took his hand and raised the sleeve until the broad, gold, graven bracelet showed.
"That link forged in the past must bind us two more surely than an oath," she said smiling.
"I used it to show to the gatekeeper." He sat cooly waiting for her next remark.

And with almost unnecessary candor began to remove the bracelet and offer it back to her.