“WHY DO You ask me to do this thing?” She sat across the marble table from me, her back to the open doors of the cafe. I struck her as a wonder. But my requests had distracted her. She no longer stared at me, so much as she looked into my eyes. She was tall, and had kept her dark-brown hair loose and long all her life, save for a leather barrette such as she wore now, which held only her forelocks behind her head to flow down her back. She wore gold hoops dangling from her small earlobes, and her soft white summer clothes had a gypsy flare to them, perhaps because of the red scarf tied around the waist of her full cotton skirt. “And to do such a thing for such a being?” she asked warmly, not angry with me, no, but so moved that she could not conceal it, even with her smooth compelling voice. [download]
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