The--the--reaction of
these women is different from any that I've ever met."
"There is something in what you say, Jeff," I agreed. "There
is a different--atmosphere."
"They don't seem to notice our being men," he went on.
"They treat us--well--just as they do one another. It's as if our
being men was a minor incident."
I nodded. I'd noticed it myself. But Terry broke in rudely.
"Fiddlesticks!" he said. "It's because of their advanced age.
They're all grandmas, I tell you--or ought to be. Great aunts,
anyhow. Those girls were girls all right, weren't they?"
"Yes--" Jeff agreed, still slowly. "But they weren't afraid--
they flew up that tree and hid, like schoolboys caught out of bounds--
not like shy girls."
"And they ran like marathon winners--you'll admit that, Terry,"
he added.
Terry was moody as the days passed. He seemed to mind our
confinement more than Jeff or I did; and he harped on Alima, and
how near he'd come to catching her.
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