'Have you ever seen the Southern Cross blazing right over your head ?' he asked.

'It's superb!' 'No,' she said shortly, 'and I don't want to.

If you think it's so lovely, why don't you go and see it yourself ?' She raised her face from the soft blackness of the marten skins about her throat, and her eyes shone like diamonds.

The moonlight on the gray kangaroo fur turned it to frosted silver of the coldest.
'By Jove, Maisie, you look like a little heathen idol tucked up there.' The eyes showed that they did not appreciate the compliment.

'I'm sorry,' he continued.