She came to Sanders when he sent for her, alert, suspicious, very much on her guard.
Before he could speak, she asked him a question.
"Lord, where is Lijingii?" This was the nearest the native ever got to the pronunciation of Ludley's name.
"Lijingii has gone across the black water," said Sanders gently, "to his own people."
"You sent him, lord," she said quickly, and Sanders made no reply.
"Lord," she went on, and Sanders wondered at the bitterness in her tone, "it is said that you hate women."
"Then a lie is told," said Sanders. "I do not hate women; rather I greatly honour them, for they go down to the caves of hell when they bear children; also I regard them highly because they are otherwise brave and very loyal."
She said nothing. Her head was sunk till her chin rested on her bare, brown breast, but she looked at him from under her brows, and her eyes were filled with a strange luminosity. Something like a panic awoke in Sanders' heart—had the mischief been done? He cursed Ludley, and breathed a fervent, if malevolent, prayer that his ship would go down with him. But her words reassured him.
"I made Lijingii love me," she said, "though he was a great lord, and I was a slave; I also would have gone down to hell, for some day I hoped I should bear him children, but now that can never be."
"And thank the Lord for it!" said Sanders, under his breath.