"Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence. But I'll not believe it of you. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. . . Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. “I love you, you know.
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