“Yes, and that's why he hate me. He does hate me. You said he did.”
“No, St'ira, I didn't. You never was hard to anybody, and the meanest old iceberg in creation couldn't hate you.”
“Then you think he does care for me?”
“Yes.”
“And you know he'll come soon?”
“Yes.”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes, to-morrow.”
“O'Manda, O'Manda!”