"If I like, all your nuts will belong to me."
"Will you win them off me?"
"We shall not even begin to play."
"Then you will take them from me?"
"No, they will come to me of themselves."
She lifts her beautiful blue eyes to me—her beautiful, blue, "Song of Songs" eyes. I say to her:
"You think I am jesting. Little fool, I know certain magic words."
She opens her eyes still wider. I feel big. I explain myself to her, like a great man, a hero:
"We boys know everything. There is a boy at school. Sheika the blind one, we call him. He is blind of one eye. He knows everything in the world, even 'Kaballa.' Do you know what 'Kaballa' is?"
"No. How am I to know?"