"Doocidly awkward," said Bones to himself, and blushed.
"O, D'riti," he stammered, "it is true I wish to speak of women, for I make a book that all white lords will read."
"Therefore have I come," she said. "Now listen, O my lord, whilst I tell you of women, and of all they think, of their love for men and of the strange way they show it. Also of children——"
"Look here," said Bones, loudly. "I don't want any—any—private information, my child——"
Then realizing from her frown that she did not understand him, he returned to Bomongo.
"Lord, I will say what is to be said," she remarked, meekly, "for you have a gentle face and I see that your heart is very pure."
Then she began, and Bones listened with open mouth ... later he was to feel his hair rise and was to utter gurgling protests, for she spoke with primitive simplicity about things that are never spoken about at all. He tried to check her, but she was not to be checked.
"Goodness, gracious heavens!" gasped Bones.
She told him of what women think of men, and of what men think women think of them, and there was a remarkable discrepancy if she spoke the truth. He asked her if she was married.
"Lord," she said at last, eyeing him thoughtfully, "it is written that I shall marry one who is greater than chiefs."