"I don't doubt it," he said. "But one way or the other you might as well reproach a humming-bird for its morals. There are such people."
After a short silence she said:
"Tell me about people in town."
"There are few there. Besides," he added smilingly, "I don't see much of your sort of people."
"My sort?" she repeated, lifting her gray eyes. "Am I not your sort, Rix?"
"Are you? You should see me in my overalls and shirt-sleeves, stained with solvents and varnish, sticky with glue and reeking turpentine, ironing out a canvas with a warm flat-iron!... Am I your kind, Strelsa?"
"Yes.... Am I your kind?"
"You always were. You know that."
"Yes, I do know it, now." She sat very still, hands folded, considering him with gray and speculative eyes.
"From the very beginning," she said, "you have never once disappointed me."