The man was about to speak again when a figure darkened the opening in the doorway. A girl had come bringing food. Heretofore it had been a man—a taciturn man who had replied to none of Tanar’s questions. But there was no suggestion of taciturnity upon the beautiful, smiling countenance of the girl.
“Here is food,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
“Where there is nothing else to do but eat I am always hungry,” said Tanar. “But where is the man who brought our food before?”
“That was my father,” replied the girl. “He has gone to hunt and I have brought the food in his stead.”
“I hope that he never returns from the hunt,” said Tanar.
“Why?” demanded the girl. “He is a good father. Why do you wish him harm?”
“I wish him no harm,” replied Tanar, laughing. “I only wish that his daughter would continue to bring our food. She is far more agreeable and much better looking.”
The girl flushed, but it was evident that she was pleased.
“I wanted to come before,” she said, “but my father would not let me. I saw you when they brought you into the village and I have wanted to see you again. I never before saw a man who looked like you. You are different from the Amiocapians. Are all the men of Sari as good looking as you?”
Tanar laughed. “I am afraid I have never given much thought to that subject,” he replied. “In Sari we judge our men by what they do and not by what they look like.”