“I did,” Anna answered. ” She stopped, and then suggested: “I wonder—I should love—if it was anything I said. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. "She is. "We'll see that," replied Jonathan. " The Wastrel laughed.
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