"Why do you say you have never seen me like this?" he asked.
"I don't know. You always jeer, and to-day you look as though you were going to smile. Quite like...."
"Like whom?"
She stopped suddenly and looked down; she wanted to say 'quite like Tamu,' but suddenly she felt frightened and sorry—sorry for this one as for the other.
"Also something you can't tell?" he asked, smiling.
"No, I can't."
"There, there, look!" he pointed to something that lay on the sand-bank and seemed exactly like a greenish-black, slimy log.
"What is it?"
"A crocodile. It hid in the sand for the night and now it has crawled out and will warm itself in the sun; and at midday, when the north wind blows, it will open its mouth towards it to get cool. An intelligent beast. But an ibis's feather paralyzes it and then one can do anything with it..."
He spoke about indifferent things on purpose to hide his emotion, but went on smiling exactly like Tamu.