“Listen,” she said. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. Scarcely any one entered Mr. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. It was locked. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter.
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