Garrod breathed fast.
"Shall we put our hates together?" murmured Jean Paul.
But there was still life in Garrod's pride of race. "This is foolishness," he said contemptuously. "You're talking wild."
Jean Paul shrugged. "Ver' good," he said. "You know to-morrow or some day. There is plentee time."
"Keep out of my way," said Garrod. "I don't want to have anything to say to you."
The darkness swallowed Jean Paul's smile. He murmured velvetly: "Me, I t'ink you lak' ver' moch sleep to-night. Sleep all night."
Garrod partly broke down. "Oh, my God!" he murmured, dropping his head on his knees.
"You got your pipe?" asked Jean Paul. "Give me, and I fill it."
"What with?" demanded Garrod.
"A little weed I pick," said Jean Paul. "No hurt anybody."