“Still there,” was his reply.
“Where?” She started, actually frightened. Koma’s voice and air of mystery began to work upon her active imagination. What was a gnat, anyway? And if one had actually bitten Komazawa, might it not also bite her? By this time she had entirely forgotten her own attacks with the grass blade. She was close to Koma now, her hands upon his arm, her upraised eyes searching his face.
“What is a gnat, Komazawa?”
“Bad little insect.”
“Oh! Does it bite?”
“Yes.”
“Did it also bite you?”
“Three times.”
“Oh!” A palpitating pause. Then:
“Will it bite me, too?”