“No; you didn’t.” 

 On consideration, she decided to ignore this prompt countering of the pronoun. 

 “I thought you were some one else,” she observed. 

 “Well, so I am, am I not?” 

 “So you are what?” 

 “Some one else than you thought.” 

 “Why, yes, I suppose—But I meant some one else besides yourself.” 

 “I only wish I were.” 

 “Why?” she asked, intrigued by the fervid inflection of the wish. 

 “Because then I’d be somewhere else than in this infernal hell-hole of a black-and-tan nursery of revolution, fever, and trouble!” 

 “I think it one of the loveliest spots I’ve ever seen,” said she loftily. 

 “How long have you been here?” 

 “On this rock? Perhaps five minutes.” 

 “Not on the rock. In Caracuña?” 

 “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.” 

 Prev. P 3/148 next