She turned to smile at him, for her heart was full of love, and she felt that he was as much within her as he was within himself. It was then that he grabbed her hands and tied them, and he tied her feet, and he lit a cigarette and stood for a moment, looking at her and laughing a little with his eyes. Juba's mind was dark, very dark, as dimness after bright sunlight in the eyes. She spoke to him with her brows, afraid to ask out loud why he had done this, though there could be only one reason. "Thanks," he said, "for all of it." Then, seeing her tears, he said, "Well, really, what did you expect?" There was a sharp stone beneath her shoulder, and she moved against it, so that it would cut through her pain. And, feeling the blood warm on her skin her tears stopped, for it was the stone that had hurt her, and not the Man. "You act," she said with a sneer, "as I would expect a man to act." "And you," he said, walking off with his heavy steps, "have very kindly acted as I would expect a woman to act." Thus it was that she opened her veins on the sharp rock. Not out of love. Not out of sorrow. Not even out of fear. Out of pride. THE END * * * * *