So he was rather silent during lunch. The weight of Vine’s revelation was still on him; but the newcomer was quite at her ease and chatted away with Prior and the doctor.
But later, when they were bowling away merrily behind a fresh, well trotting pair of horses bound for Sipazi, he was obliged to put this new train of thought out of his head, for the new arrival plied him with all sorts of questions, as to the country and its natives, and other things; then got on to the subject of Thornhill.
“I have never seen him, you know, Mr Elvesdon, since I was ever so small. I don’t know anything really about him beyond what my poor mother told me. By the way—did he marry again?”
Elvesdon started unconsciously. In his present train of thought he was wondering how much she knew as to the matter about which he had only just heard.
“No. He has one girl at home now, and a boy away at the Rand.”
“Oh. That’s nice. Tell me. What is the girl like?”
“Charming. She’s like no other girl I’ve ever seen.”
The reply was made in a perfectly even tone, without any perceptible enthusiasm. The other was interested at once.
“What’s her name?”
“Edala. Peculiar name isn’t it?”