“It’s good to be back—with you,” he said.
She pressed closer against him.
“I was surprised to get your telegram from De Aar. Why didn’t you write from Johannesburg? ... All these days, and never a line!”
“I wasn’t in Johannesburg,” he answered. “I never got beyond De Aar. The man I wanted was there. Do you remember the man you saw me with on the beach that first morning? ... I went to settle a debt with him.”
She turned quickly towards him, a light of comprehension dawning in her eyes.
“He did this for you,” she said, and touched the empty sleeve. “I don’t want you to tell me,” she added; and he judged from her voice and from her manner that this journey of his to De Aar with its ugly consequences was associated in her mind with the story he had confided to her at the Monument before their engagement. She wanted him to realise that she trusted him.
“I’ve no secrets from you,” he said.
“I know. But there are some things one understands without any need for discussing them. I think I guessed when you didn’t wish me to see you off.”
“I didn’t suppose...” he began, and broke off and stared at her. “I met her,” he confessed baldly; “but it wasn’t a thing planned. I wanted to see the man. She is married to him; but I didn’t know that when I went there.”
Silence fell between them. It seemed to the man and to the girl, seated so still beside him, that the presence of this other and fairer woman intruded between them, was with them, listening to their disconnected talk.