"And what did he do?"
"He shot."
"And—"
"The bullet knocked the cobra over. It was bronze."
Then, for the first time since he entered the room, he let go her hand. "And that satisfied your interest?"
"That satisfied me," she said, and he would have sworn she slightly emphasized the pronoun.
"There must have been a lot of shooting out there in India," he said significantly. Somehow he felt terribly vexed.
No, he didn't want to go into any wilds with this woman. He recalled that reincarnated tigress idea of Kneedrock's. No Yukon or Ceylon. No, surely not.
She seemed to read his thought. She drew back her right hand which he had dropped so coolly and, turning a little on her side, she reached out her left.
"There! Take off the ring and give it to Miss Veynol," she said cheerfully. "I really can't marry you. Indeed I can't. Don't press me. Don't even press my hand. It's absolutely no use. Go on, now, and leave me to sleep."