bout it. The curves were womanly, the bones were characteristically
female--yet all seemed somehow to express a daring, masculine underlying
will. The commanding eye on her forehead set the same puzzle in plainer
language. Its bold, domineering egotism was shot with undergleams of sex
and softness.

She came to the river's edge and reviewed him from top to toe. "Now you
are built more like a man," she said, in her lovely, lingering voice.

"You see, the experiment was successful," he answered, smiling gaily.

Oceaxe continued looking him over. "Did some woman give you that
ridiculous robe?"

"A woman did give it to me"--dropping his smile--"but I saw nothing
ridiculous in the gift at the time, and I don't now."

"I think I'd look better in it."

As she drawled the words, she began stripping off the skin, which suited
her form so well, and motioned to him to exchange garments. He obeyed,
rather shamefacedly, for he realised that the proposed exchange was
in fact more appropriate to his sex. He found the skin a freer dress.
Oceaxe in her drapery appeared more dangerously feminine to him.

"I don't want you to receive gifts at all from other women," she
remarked slowly.

"Why not? What can I be to you?"

"I have been thinking about you during the night." Her voice was
retarded, scornful, viola-like. She sat down on the trunk of a fallen
tree, and looked away.

"In what way?"

She returned no answer to his question, but began to pull off pieces of
the bark.

"Last night you were so contemptuous."

"Last night is not today. Do you always walk through the world with your
head over your shoulder?"

It was now Maskull's turn to be silent.

"Still, if you have male instincts, as I suppose you have, you can't go
on resisting me forever."

"But this is preposterous," said Maskull, opening his eyes wide. "Granted
that you are a beautiful woman--we can't be quite so primeval."

Oceaxe sighed, and rose to her feet. "It doesn't matter. I can wait."

"From that I gather that you intend to make the journey in my society.
I have no objection--in fact I shall be glad--but only on condition that
you drop this language."

"Yet you do think me beautiful?"

"Why shouldn't I think so, if it is the fact? I fail to see what that
has to do with my feelings. Bring it to an end, Oceaxe. You will find
plenty of men to admire--and love you."

At that she blazed up. "Does love pick and choose, you fool? Do you
imagine I am