"How long have you been here?"
"On this rock? Perhaps five minutes."
"Not on the rock. In Caracuna?"
"Quite a long time. Nearly a fortnight."
The commentary on this was so indefinite that she was moved to
inquire:--
"Is that a local dialect you're speaking?"
"No; that was a grunt."
"I don't think it was a very polite grunt, even as grunts go."
"Perhaps not. I'm afraid I'm out of the habit."
"Of grunting? You seem expert enough to satisfy--"
"No; of being polite. I'll apologize if--if you'll only go on
talking."
She laughed aloud.
"Or laughing," he amended promptly. "Do it again."
"One can't laugh to order!" she protested; "or even talk to order.
But why do you stay 'way out here in the mountains if you're so
eager to hear the human voice?"
"The human voice be--choked! It's YOUR human voice I want to hear
--your kind of human voice, I mean." "I don't know that my kind of
human voice is particularly different from plenty of other human
voices," she observed, with an effect of fine impartial judgment.
"It's widely different from the kind that afflicts the suffering
ear in this part of the world.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25