Druro could not help smiling.
"Poor old Africa! We all abuse her like a pickpocket and cling to her like a mother."
"I don't cling. All I ask is never to see her again."
"I don't wonder. She has not treated you too well."
The smile faded from his lips, leaving them sombre. It was like looking into a dark window to see Lundi Druro's face without the gaiety of his eyes. At the same time, their absence threw up a quality of strength about his mouth and jaw that might have gone unobserved. He was conscious of her attention acutely fixed upon him, but he could not know with what avid curiosity she was searching his features, or guess, fortunately for him, at the cold, clear thought that was passing through her mind.
"How awful to have to drag a blind husband about the world! Still—the money will mitigate. I can always pay people to——" Then a thrill of pleasure shot through that bleak and desert thing which was her heart. "He will never see me as I am now."
Yes; this reflection actually gave her pleasure and content in Druro's tragedy. He, of all the world, would still think of her as she had been before the leopard puckered her throat and scarred her cheek with terrible scars. At the thought, her vanity, which was her soul, suddenly flowered forth again. Her voice softened; some of the old glamour came back into it.
"Will you take me away from this cruel country, Lundi—as soon as we are both better?"
To leave Africa, and that which Africa held! All Lundi Druro's blood called out, "No," but his firm lips answered gently:
"Yes; if you wish it," then closed again as if set in stone.