"Was he? I always thought him painfully truthful, though how he got at
the truth I do not know. Anyhow," she added with meaning, "don't
suppose I think the worse of you because others have thought so well.
Women who seem to be all different, generally, I notice, have this in
common. If one or two of them like a man, the rest like him also
because something in him appeals to the universal feminine instinct,
and the same applies to their dislike. Now men, I think, are different
in that respect."

"Perhaps because they are more catholic and charitable," I suggested,
"or perhaps because they like those who like them."

She laughed in her charming way, and said,

"However these remarks do not apply to you and me, for as I think I
told you once before in that cedar wood in Kendah Land where you
feared lest I should catch a chill, or become--odd again, it is
another you with whom something in me seems to be so intimate."

"That's fortunate for your sake," I muttered, still staring at and
pointing to the silver plate.

Again she laughed. "Do you remember the /Taduki/ herb?" she asked. "I
have plenty of it safe upstairs, and not long ago I took a whiff of
it, only a whiff because you know it had to be saved."

"And what did you see?"

"Never mind. The question is what shall we /both/ see?"