"What have you been doing, Lothario?" I demanded in French.
Nikka looked very unhappy.
"She wanted me to kiss her. I—I offered her that watch, in the first place. To make up for showing her up the way I did; that was to impress Tokalji, of course. And then I thought she had been pretty decent to us since."
"I daresay she has been," I agreed. "For a purpose, to be sure."
"A purpose?"
"Well, she asked you for something, didn't she?" I gibed.
"Oh, that!" Nikka's discomfort was heart-warming. "She doesn't know any better, Jack. I've seen her kind before—at least, none as bright as she or quite as pretty; but the same kind of untamed wild-cats. We Gypsies spoil our women if they have any spirit. And she— Well, you could see for yourself. She has been brought up in this atmosphere. Crime is an art with her. She looks upon a clever robbery as you do on a good job of architecture. She has lived with men ever since she left her mother's arms. She doesn't know what it means to be refused any thing. She—she's all right, you know."
"I know she's the prettiest savage creature I've ever seen," I returned drily. "Since she is the first, however, that may not mean much. You seem to be very anxious to explain her savagery, my friend. Why didn't you kiss her?"
Nikka picked up the watch and examined the broken crystal.
"I don't think we'd better stay here," he answered vaguely. "Women's quarters, and all that sort of thing. Hullo, here's Tokalji, now!"