"Nothing," she said dully. "You not mean bad."
"Then why are you sitting like this? Why did you look at me so when you came?"
"I feel bad," she said simply. "You are here. I not know what will happen now."
"What can happen?" he asked, mystified. "Why shouldn't I come here? Why can't you trust me a little?"
"Trust!" she said with an inexplicable look. "What is trust? You mean good, I think. You are a white man. You can't change that. How can you stop what will happen, anyway?"
"You talk in riddles!" cried the exasperated Ralph. "If you'd been plain and open with me from the first, wouldn't it have saved all this trouble? Why can't you tell me what it is?"
Nahnya twisted her hands painfully together. The quiet voice began to break. "I can't talk," she murmured. "I feel much bad. I have got no right words to tell you."
"Do you want me to go back?" he asked.
She shook her head. "You have found the place," she said. "What does it matter when you go? Stay here. By and by I try to tell you what is in my heart."
"But your mother," said Ralph. "I must go back and see to her."