The girl only smiled.
“Perhaps you are not a Korsar,” he exclaimed. “You were captured as I was and are a prisoner.”
“I am no prisoner,” she replied.
“But you are not a Korsar,” he insisted.
“Ask The Cid—he will doubtless cutlass you for your impertinence; but why do you think I am not a Korsar?”
“You are too beautiful and too fine,” he replied. “You have shown sympathy and that is a finer sentiment far beyond their mental capability. They are—”
“Be careful, enemy; perhaps I am a Korsar!”
“I do not believe it,” said Tanar.
“Then keep your beliefs to yourself, prisoner,” retorted the girl in a haughty tone.
“What is this?” demanded a rough voice behind Tanar. “What has this thing said to you, Stellara?”