"You don't care about me," he said. "It's all the Company—and only the Company because it gives you something to do. Well, the Company'll go on (I hope), and you'll hear about our doings."
She turned to him with a puzzled look.
"I don't know what it is," she said with a shake of her head. Then, with a sudden air of understanding, as though she had caught the meaning that before eluded her, she cried, "I'm just like you, I believe. If I went to Omofaga, and you had to stay——"
"Oh, it would be the deuce!" he laughed.
"Yes, yes. Well, it is—the deuce," she answered, laughing in return. But in a moment she was grave again.
Her attraction for him—the old special attraction of the unknown and unconquered—came strongly upon him, and mingled more now with pleasure in her. Her silence let him think; and he began to think how wasted she was on Harry Dennison. Another thought followed, and to that he gave utterance.
"But you've lots of things you could do at home; you could have plenty to work at, and plenty of—of influence, and so on."
"Yes, but—oh, it would come to Mr. Belford! Who wants to influence Mr. Belford? Besides, I've grown to love it now, haven't you?"
"Omofaga?"
"Yes! It's so far off—and most people don't believe in it."