“What is it that you want? Still I don't understand.”
Her voice had the break of one who would keep reasonable in spite of pain.
“I ought to tell you.”
“Yes, you ought to tell me.”
“I wonder if I can tell you,” he said very thoughtfully, and rested his hands on his hips. “I shall seem ridiculous to you.”
“You ought to tell me.”
“I think what I want is to be king of the world.”
She stood quite still staring at him.
“I do not know how I can tell you of it. Amanda, do you remember those bodies—you saw those bodies—those mutilated men?”
“I saw them,” said Amanda.