But I was alluding to its inhabitants." This finished me, and I am sure she felt that I could think of nothing nice to say about those inhabitants, for I heard her sigh.

We walked side by side up the rose-fringed path and presently arrived at the stoep, where Anscombe, whose hair I had cut very nicely on the previous day, was watching us from his long chair.

They looked at each other, and I saw both of them colour a little, out of mere foolishness, I suppose.
"Anscombe," I said, "this is--" and I paused, not being quite certain whether she also was called Marnham.

"Heda Marnham," she interrupted.
"Yes--Miss Heda Marnham, and this is the Honourable Maurice Anscombe." "Forgive me for not rising, Miss Marnham," said Anscombe in his pleasant voice (by the way hers was pleasant too, full and rather low, with just a suggestion of something foreign about it).

"A shot through the foot prevents me at present." "Who shot you ?" she asked quickly.
"Oh! only a Kaffir." "I am so sorry, I hope you will get well soon.