The girl was trying to collect her thoughts.
What did she know of this strange creature at her side?
What did he know of himself? Who was he? Who, his parents?
Why, his very name echoed his mysterious origin and his
savage life.
He had no name. Could she be happy with this jungle
waif? Could she find anything in common with a husband
whose life had been spent in the tree tops of an African
wilderness, frolicking and fighting with fierce anthropoids;
tearing his food from the quivering flank of fresh-killed prey,
sinking his strong teeth into raw flesh, and tearing away his
portion while his mates growled and fought about him for
their share?
Could he ever rise to her social sphere? Could she bear to
think of sinking to his? Would either be happy in such a
horrible misalliance?
"You do not answer," he said. "Do you shrink from
wounding me?"
"I do not know what answer to make," said Jane sadly. "I
do not know my own mind."
"You do not love me, then?" he asked, in a level tone.
"Do not ask me. You will be happier without me. You
were never meant for the formal restrictions and
conventionalities of society--civilization would become
irksome to you, and in a little while you would long for the
freedom of your old life--a life to which I am as totally
unfitted as you to mine."
"I think I understand you," he replied quietly.
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