She began to laugh.
“No, it’s because I’m breathing smoke.”
“Do dragons breathe smoke? It is a salamander you are believing in.”
“In pictures dragons always breathe smoke and fire.”
“But there is no fire here.”
“There must be somewhere, because there is so much smoke.”
He was unmoved and ruminative.
“I do not find your riddle very clever,” he said at last.
Rosina buried the poor, weak, little scintillation at once and stamped on its grave in hot haste.
“I think that our dinner is coming,” she announced presently, turning her veil above her brows, “and I am so hungry.”