"I follow," he said in her own language, and she stopped, surprise tangling her like a net. For she had been taught that Men speak only New-language in our time, all soft tongues having been scorned to death.
She should not have stopped. He looked back toward his gun. "Wait a moment," he said. His "a"'s were flat and harsh, his words awkwardly sequenced.
"Come with me," she said, and ran off again. She had been caught off guard.
Would he follow her? "Wait!" he cried, hesitated, and came after her again. "I want to get my gun." He reached for Juba's hand.
She shrank back from him. "Mulier enim sum." Would he get the force of the particle? What could he fear from a mere woman?
When he had followed her far enough, when he had gone as far as he would, for fear of losing his way from his ship, she let him take her hand.
"Terran sum," he said. And then, with meaning, "Homino sum."
"Then you are, naturally, hungry," Juba said. "You have no need to come armed. Let me take you to my home. There are only my sisters and I and the mother."
"Yes," he said, and took her other hand.
She blushed, because he was strangely attractive, and because the thought came to her that his ways were gentle, and that if he spoke a soft tongue, perhaps he was not like other Men.