Re: The Deck, toward the Bridge
He had nothing to gain by killing her. The good thing about this English lord was that he had no real property to defend (beyond what he was wearing), no reputation to consider, nothing that really needed defending except his people, his food and his loved ones. Tarzan was all emotion. It would have been relaxing if he had allowed it, now that the knife was gone. It was too difficult, too much thinking was required to translate her speech and his.
He sniffed a little, as if she smelled of something that made him sneeze. "Lady," he grunted, reluctantly. One of his shadowed eyes rolled down toward her red sandal, as if he thought that was the least likely thing he might find a lady standing on.
"Show Tarzan good thing," he decided, in decisive grunts. "Trade for sparkle."