Give me that pretty mirror, Macumazahn; when I look in it I shall see you as well as myself, and that will please me--you don't know how much.

I thank you.

Good night." In another minute I was watching her solitary little figure, now wrapped again in the hooded kaross, as it vanished over the brow of the rise behind us, and really, as she went, I felt a lump rising in my throat.
Notwithstanding all her wickedness--and I suppose she was wicked--there was something horribly attractive about Mameena.
When she had gone, taking my only looking-glass with her, and the lump in my throat had gone also, I began to wonder how much fact there was in her story.

She had protested so earnestly that she told me all the truth that I felt sure there must be something left behind.

Also I remembered she had said Zikali wanted to see me.