“You haven’t tickled me yet,” she said. “Show Carmina how you do it.”
He gravely operated on the back of Zo’s neck; and his patient acknowledged the process with a wriggle and a scream. The performance being so far at an end, Zo called to the dog, and issued her orders once more.
“Now make Tinker kick his leg!”
Benjulia obeyed once again. The young tyrant was not satisfied yet.
“Now tickle Carmina!” she said.
He heard this without laughing: his fleshless lips never relaxed into a smile. To Carmina’s unutterable embarrassment, he looked at her, when she laughed, with steadier attention than ever. Those coldly-inquiring eyes exercised some inscrutable influence over her. Now they made her angry; and now they frightened her. The silence that had fallen on them again, became an unendurable infliction. She burst into talk; she was loud and familiar—ashamed of her own boldness, and quite unable to control it. “You are very fond of Zo!” she said suddenly.
It was a perfectly commonplace remark—and yet, it seemed to perplex him.
“Am I?” he answered.
She went on. Against her own will, she persisted in speaking to him. “And I’m sure Zo is fond of you.”
He looked at Zo. “Are you fond of me?” he asked.