“No.”
“Haven’t you got a friend?”
“No.”
“Well, you are a miserable chap!”
Thanks to Zo, Carmina’s sense of nervous oppression burst its way into relief. She laughed loudly and wildly—she was on the verge of hysterics, when Benjulia’s eyes, silently questioning her again, controlled her at the critical moment. Her laughter died away. But the exciting influence still possessed her; still forced her into the other alternative of saying something—she neither knew nor cared what.
“I couldn’t live such a lonely life as yours,” she said to him—so loudly and so confidently that even Zo noticed it.
“I couldn’t live such a life either,” he admitted, “but for one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“Why are you so loud?” Zo interposed. “Do you think he’s deaf?”
Benjulia made a sign, commanding the child to be silent—without turning towards her. He answered Carmina as if there had been no interruption.