“Shoz-Dijiji does not want to go,” he replied. “Your people have driven Shoz-Dijiji from his own country.”
“I should think that you would hate me, Shoz-Dijiji.”
“No, I do not hate you. I love you,” he said simply.
“You must not say that, Shoz-Dijiji,” she answered, sadly.
“If Shoz-Dijiji was a white-eyed man, you would listen,” he said.
She was silent.
“Tell me,” he demanded, “is that not true?”
“Oh, God! I don’t know, I don’t know,” she cried.
“Shoz-Dijiji knows,” said the Be-don-ko-he. “Good-bye!”
He wheeled his pony and rode away.