"But you are said by many to be the best shot in Africa."
He glanced at her.
"Indeed! I think that a mistake. For whom do you take me?"
"You are Culbertson," she told him. She pronounced the name slowly, syllable by syllable, as though English proper names were difficult to her.
He laughed.
"Whoever he may be. I am known as Kingozi hereabouts."
"You are not Cul-bert-son?"
"I am anything it pleases you to have me. And who are you?"
She had become the spoiled darling, pouting at him in half-pretended vexation.
"You are playing with me. For that I shall not tell you who I am."