“You will do nothing of the kind.” I looked at him resentfully, but he went on: “You think me cruel—but one can’t go through life sentimentalizing over these things. It’s no good standing out—I shan’t allow you to take them. It’s a primitive country, you know, and I’m stronger than you.”
I always know when I am beaten. I went down to the car with tears in my eyes.
“They’re probably short of food just to-day,” he explained consolingly. “That man’s wife has gone into Bulawayo for stores. So it will be all right. And anyway, you know, the world’s full of starving cats.”
“Don’t—don’t,” I said fiercely.
“I’m teaching you to realize life as it is. I’m teaching you to be hard and ruthless—like I am. That’s the secret of strength—and the secret of success.”
“I’d sooner be dead than hard,” I said passionately.
We got into the car and started off. I pulled myself together again slowly. Suddenly, to my intense astonishment, he took my hand in his.
“Anne,” he said gently, “I want you. Will you marry me?”
I was utterly taken aback.
“Oh, no,” I stammered. “I can’t.”