A Secret of the Lebombo
"Yes. There'd have been no fun in bringing a crowd."
"Well, sit down inside and rest while I see to your horse. Hitched to the gate, I suppose?"
"Yes. For the other I'm not going to obey. I'll go with you. Do you want to be away from me for the first ten minutes I'm here?"
"Do I, indeed? Come along, then."
They went to the gate, she leaning slightly against him, as they walked, his hand passed lovingly through her arm. And they looked an ideal pair physically, he with his six foot of strong English manhood, his bronzed face, fine and thoughtful, though even now unable to shake off the recollection of crowding in troubles; she, lithe and rounded, moving with the perfect grace of a natural and unstudied ease, her large grey eyes, thickly lashed, wide open and luminous with the sheer delight of this meeting, her cheeks just a little browned with the generous kiss of the African sun. Yes, they seemed an ideal pair, and yet--and yet--this is a world wherein ther