"You've got into my imagination," he began almost indignantly.
"You've been in mine years and years," she said.
He came back then, and she was frightened of him.
"Let's get out of this," he said impatiently. "I can't talk to you here in his house. Let us get off into the Bush somewhere. Where's the boy?"
"He's playing with Betty."
"You'd better fetch him along," he said unevenly.
She shook her head.
"Louis would be worried if he came in and found me out at tea-time," she said. "It made him very unhappy to see you, you know. He can't bear to think that you are free while he is a slave."
She walked before him to look at the distant smoke of the fires. The clearing was almost finished.
"Damn Louis!" he cried. "He is a slave because he lets himself be! And you're a slave because he's one. I shall not let you stay here, chained. Armour suits you better."