"Yes," replied Tarzan; "there is an even better one; the one which probably influences you to overlook my dereliction."
"And what is it?"
"The fact that you cannot make me kneel."
A hard look flashed in the Queen's eyes; it was not the answer she had been hoping for. Tarzan's eyes did not leave hers; she saw amusement in them. "Oh, why do I endure it!" she cried, and with the query her anger melted. "You should not try to make it so hard for me to be nice to you," she said almost appealingly. "Why do you not meet me halfway? Why are you not nice to me, Tarzan?"
"I wish to be nice to you, Nemone," he replied; "but not at the price of my self-respect; but that is not the only reason why I shall never kneel to you."
"What is the other reason?" she demanded.
"That I wish you to like me; you would not like me if I cringed to you."
"Perhaps you are right," she admitted musingly. "Everyone cringes, until the sight of it disgusts me; yet I am angry when they do not cringe. Why is that?"
"You will be offended if I tell you," warned the ape-man.
"In the past two days I have become accustomed to being offended," she replied with a grimace of resignation; "so you might as well tell me."