“Did you speak with him?” she asked curiously.
“I did.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“No, I can’t—I won’t. But whatever he said, his beauty was more tormenting than yours, Oceaxe, and that’s why I can look at you in cold blood.”
“Did Surtur forbid you to be a man?”
Maskull frowned. “Is love such a manly sport, then? I should have thought it effeminate.”
“It doesn’t matter. You won’t always be so boyish. But don’t try my patience too far.”
“Let us talk about something else—and, above all, let us get on our road.”
She suddenly broke into a laugh, so rich, sweet, and enchanting, that he grew half inflamed, and half wished to catch her body in his arms. “Oh, Maskull, Maskull—what a fool you are!”
“In what way am I a fool?” he demanded, scowling—not at her words, but at his own weakness.