Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. That’s how it takes me. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. It was most amusing.
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