He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. You fooled me this morning; but I overheard two old maids talking about you and the young man. “Never.
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