The haunting, familiar air with its tender pathos, its hopelessness, its strange beauty, moved her to an extraordinary degree, perhaps because she was so deeply moved already. A sob caught her throat, and the unaccustomed tears started to her eyes for the second time that evening. As before, she put up a hand to press them back, but they pushed their way under her lids and between the restraining fingers, and coursed rapidly down her cheeks...
“Oh! darkies, how my heart grows weary!”
The sob was louder this time...
“Oh! darkies, how my heart grows weary!”
Swiftly she turned and buried her face in the cushion of the chair and wept unrestrainedly.
Chapter Ten.
Lawless made hasty preparations for leaving Cape Town. He did not give up his room at the hotel. When a man is spending other people’s money there is no particular need for him to study economy. His headquarters were at Cape Town—he was merely taking a holiday while he matured his plans. On the day before he left he lunched with Van Bleit at the latter’s invitation. Van Bleit was openly admiring, and not a little envious.
“Going on your honeymoon,” he murmured, growing maudlin over his wine. “You lucky devil! But the luck was always with you, Grit.”