Glancing again at the tiny, inchoate face under the bushes, her
eyes diffused rays of warm and kindly light as, licking her
lips, she, with a slow movement, smoothed the breast of the
little one.

Then I arranged sticks for a fire, and also adjusted stones to
support the kettle.

"Soon I will have tea ready for you," I remarked.

"And thankful indeed I shall be," she responded, "for my breasts
are dried up."

"Why have your companions deserted you?" I said next.

"They have not deserted me. It was I that left them of my own
accord. How could I have exposed myself in their presence?"

And with a glance at me she raised a hand to her face as,
spitting a gout of blood, she smiled a sort of bashful smile.

"This is your first child, I take it?"

"It is. . . . And who are you?"

"A man."

"Yes, a man, of course; but, are you a MARRIED man? "