The motor stopped before the hotel entrance. Dare got out and helped her to descend.
“I’m coming up to the balcony,” he said. “I want to talk.”
Pamela went inside and passed up the stairs to her room. She took off her hat and gloves, and went out on to the balcony, and sat in the shade, waiting for him. He was not long in joining her. He drew a chair up close to hers and sat down.
“Now,” he said, “we’ll dispose of this matter finally. My time is short. I intend to take the evening train to Johannesburg, unless, of course, you change your mind; and then—”
“You’ll take the evening train, dear,” she said quietly.
He glanced at her sharply.
“You mean that?” he said. “That’s your final answer, Pamela?”
“Yes; that’s my final answer.”
“So be it,” he replied, and looked away again, out across the busy, sunny street.
“It doesn’t alter anything,” he added presently, speaking in sharp, crisp tones that disguised whatever emotion swayed him at the moment. “Matters stand between us as they were. When you find life too hard, you’ll send for me. I shall be able to judge from the tone of your letters how things go with you. In the meantime—save for one occasion—we shall not meet again.”