“Yes, the very thing.”
“It—it’s our obstacle!” Her eyes sparkled.
Then he asked, his voice grown warm and ardent: “Are we going to let it be an obstacle always?”
“No, not always,” she replied, her own voice cordial and eager and reassuring.
“How are we ever going to make the merry-go-round stop?”
“Oh, some way will open up, I know!”
They strolled out on to the lawn and sat down in a bona-fide, old-fashioned, creaky garden swing.
“I don’t suppose,” he suggested wistfully, giving her a most enticing smile, “you ever take little flying trips into Africa?”
“Are you determined to go so far then?” she demanded, with a playful, deprecating contraction of her brow.
“Ah, but I have to!” he told her, looking almost alarmed, as though she were spreading for him a delicious snare which he might find it impossible to resist. “We’re all advertised! We open in Cape Town, and after that—Johannesburg.”