Also, by the way--this is a new thought--that I have a great deal to do with _you_.

That is why I am so interested in Africa and you.

Tell me about Africa and yourself now, while we have the chance." And she ended rather abruptly, adding in a louder voice, "You have lived there all your life, have you not, Mr.
Quatermain ?" "I rather think your mother would be right--about the doctor, I mean," I said.
"You _say_ that, but you don't _believe_ it.

Oh! you are very transparent, Mr.Quatermain--at least, to me." So, hurriedly enough, for these subjects seemed to be uncomfortable, even dangerous in a sense, I began to talk of the first thing about Africa that I remembered--namely, of the legend of the Holy Flower that was guarded by a huge ape, of which I had heard from a white man who was supposed to be rather mad, who went by the name of Brother John.

Also I told her that there was something in it, as I had with me a specimen of the flower.
"Oh! show it me," she said.
I replied that I feared I could not, as it was locked away in a safe in London, whither I was returning on the morrow.