"Directly I set eyes on you I knew you were one of that sort."
"And did you impart your opinion of me to your uncle?" asked Cosmo. He could be no more offended with that girl than if she had been an unmannerly animal. Her peculiar stare remained unchanged but her general expression softened for a moment.
"No. But I took care to tell him that you were a very handsome gentleman. . . . You are a very handsome gentleman."
What surprised Cosmo was not the downright statement but the thought that flashed through his mind that it was as dreadful as being told that one was good to eat. For a time he stared without any thought of unwinking competition. He was not amused. Distinctly not. He asked:
"Where were you born?"
"How can I tell? In the mountains, I suppose. Somewhere where you will never go. How can it possibly concern you?"
Cosmo offered his apology for his indiscretion, and she received it with a sort of uncomprehending scorn. She said after a pause: "None of those witches, young or old, ever speak to me. And even you didn't want to speak to me. You only spoke to me . . . Oh, no! I know why you spoke to me."
"Why did I speak to you?" asked Cosmo thoughtfully. "Won't you tell me?"
Upon the firm roundness of that high-coloured face came a subtle change which suggested something in the nature of cunning, and the rough, somewhat veiled voice came from between the red lips which had no more charm or life than the painted lips carved in a piece of wood.
"If I were to tell you would be as wise as myself."