She regarded him intently a moment, as if determining what to do—possibly she might have been measuring his will—then she said, coldly, “You have my leave—go.”
“Peace to you,” he responded, and walked away.
As he was about passing out of the door, she called to him.
“A word.”
He stopped where he was, and looked back.
“Consider all I know about you.”
“O most fair Egyptian,” he said, returning, “what all do you know about me?”
She looked at him absently.
“You are more of a Roman, son of Hur, then any of your Hebrew brethren.”
“Am I so unlike my countrymen?” he asked, indifferently.