"When I saw you first," she said suddenly, "the sun was in my eyes. And I thought you was—black?"
"Yes?" said Kamis. "That wasn't the sun," he said slowly. "I am black."
"But—" she hesitated. "I don't mean just black," she said vaguely. "I meant—a black man, a nigger."
She was peering up at him anxiously, while her weight rested in his arm.
"Well, wouldn't you have let a nigger help you?" asked Kamis quietly. "Isn't it a nigger's business, when he sees a white woman in trouble, to do what he can for her? One of your farm niggers, now—wouldn't you have called to him if he 'd been there?"
"Yes," fretfully. "But I thought you was a nigger."
"I 'm a doctor," said Kamis. "I was at schools and colleges in England. The English Government gives me hundreds of pounds a year. You 're quite safe with me."
"It was the sun in my eyes," she murmured uncertainly. "I said it was the sun."
"No, it wasn't the sun," he said. "You saw quite well. I am a nigger."
"How can a doctor be a nigger?" she asked. "Niggers—why, I know all about niggers. You can't fool me."