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I was well-disposed towards her. I was fond of her. I liked her more and more. I'm not a curious person about other people's lives. I never ask them direct questions. I was trained never to ask anybody any personal questions. I never do. I wouldn't think of it. So I'm sure I never started the following conversation one night. I have no idea how the conversation started. It may just barely have started by my admiring or speaking of as very interesting a necklace which she frequently wore made of tigers' teeth put together with beautifully wrought gold links and balls. It made a big necklace which would have been dreadfully unbecoming to most women, but she has a very long neck, very sloping shoulders, with a very large expanse around the collar bone area, which is broad, sloping, and these big teeth hanging down there were becoming. The necklace was becoming to her, whereas on a woman who was more ribbed up close, as they say in the horse trade, it wouldn't have been as becoming. It was the most peculiar looking necklace. It's just barely possible that my having said something about that necklace and how interesting it was, and how beautiful the gold work was, started the conversation.

She said, “Yes, I cherish this because my father shot this tiger in Africa on a big hunting expedition he went on. He had the idea of having these beautiful teeth mounted. It