“Am I?” I answered. “I get that way sometimes. Result of living alone, I suppose. No, Ukozi did not tell me anything stupendous. Amusing chap, Kendrew, isn’t he?” as another chorus of laughter went up from within.
“He seems a nice sort of boy. And now—you start on Wednesday? Shall we see you again between this and then?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Sewin. Tyingoza’s nephew has disappointed me over the span of oxen he was going to hire me, and I shall have to spend to-morrow and the day after riding Heaven knows where in search of another span. Oxen—at any rate reliable ones—are precious scarce just now everywhere.”
“I’m sorry. I—we—shall miss you so much, Mr Glanton—and you have been so kind to us—”
“That all?” I thought to myself bitterly. “Sort of ‘make myself generally useful’ blank that will create.” Her next words made me feel ashamed of myself.
“But you will come and see us directly you return, won’t you? I shall look forward to it, mind—and—I hate being disappointed.”
Good Heavens! The voice, the gleam of white teeth in the little smile, the softening of eyes in the starlight! Had we been alone I believe I should have lost my head, and uttered I don’t know what. But you can’t say anything of that sort with a lot of people jabbering and laughing, and nothing between you and them but an open door and ditto window.
“You shall not be disappointed in that very unimportant particular at any rate,” I answered. “And you are good enough to say you will look forward to it. Why I shall look forward to it every day until it comes.”
This was pretty plain-speaking and no mistake, but I had been surprised out of myself. What she might have answered I can’t even conjecture, for at that moment through a lull in the racket within, was raised a voice.
“Glanton? Yes. He’s a good old buffer, Glanton. Why, what’s become of him?”