She gave him a withering glance.

"_Respectful!_ Treats me like I'd faint if he spoke rough or break if he
touched me. I ain't ever seen anything so choice. You said I was
thin--it's keeping up such a dignified style that's worn me down."

This description was so unlike the bandit's idea of love-making that he
became incredulous.

"How do you know he's a beau? Looks like to me he was just marking time."

She smiled, the secret smile of a woman who has seen the familiar signs.
She had taken another fig and delicately breaking it open, eyed its
crimson heart.

"He's jealous."

"Who of?"

"Nobody, anybody, everybody." She began to laugh, and putting her lips to
the fruit, sucked, and then drew them away stained with its ruby juice.
"He's always trying to draw me, find out if there isn't somebody I like.
Pop, you'd laugh if you could hear him sniffing round the subject like a
cat round the cream."

"What do you tell him?"

"_Me?_" She gave him a scornful cast of her eye. Her face was flushed,
and with her crimsoned mouth and shining eyes she was for the moment