She probably knew a great deal more, but she left it at that.
Her mind had flown away into the dark deeps of Africa, where a man forged ahead over unbroken tracks, through fevered swamps, with no companions but his faithful boys, upon whose courage and staunch loyalty his life must of necessity often depend—and not depend in vain; for "good men" (the expression has nothing to do with morals) trust their boys, and are trusted by them to the death.
Ah! with an effort she dragged back her thoughts from across the sea. That way madness lay! She gave her ears once more to Newnham and the Rand.
He spoke of Johannesburg with the mingled hatred and admiration everyone who has ever lived there feels for that evil, fascinating Monte-Carlo of money, and tragedy, and suffering.
"It is the only place worth living in," he averred; adding: "At least, that is what all the old residents say, and you can understand the emotion with which they say it when you consider that most of them came out as waiters and cook-generals, and blossomed later into millionaire squires and dames of society."
"But they all go and live in Park Lane, don't they?" smiled Poppy.
"Oh! they revisit the scene of their triumphs. It lures them across the sea. A poignant longing comes to them sometimes, even in Park Lane, for the glitter of galvanised-iron and sardine-tins and Nestle's Brand—and the red dust, and the spectral blue gums. But they do precious little for the place that has done so much for them," he sneered. "I should say that with the exception of the Barnato ward, and an open space for games, not a millionaire of the lot has done anything to beautify or benefit Johannesburg. 'Make your pile and scoot' has always been the watchword. But I suppose it isn't in human nature for a debtor to love his creditor!"
Newnham and Poppy spent many days in talk of Africa. The evenings, which were all blue and gold—sea and sky alike thickly sown with stars—she loved to dream away alone in some shadowy corner, or leaning over the taffrails with the gleam of the phosphorescent waves reflected on her face. But when Newnham sought her out she would either walk, or have her chair put where a big electric-light blazed on the face of her companion.
"Never sign a paper, or drink water in the dark," was a Spanish proverb well known to her, and she had another of her own:
"Never rest where you cannot see the eyes of a man you distrust."