“We need only leave the letter,” she said. “We will stop there on our way home. It is possible they will want us to stay to breakfast; but if you prefer—”
“Oh, please!” he interrupted. “It’s for you to decide.”
“Yes. But you don’t understand. Cornelius hates the English; his brother, Herman, is different. Often they do not speak for months as a result of political disagreement. The farm is jointly theirs, but they have separate houses.”
“In that case,” he said, smiling involuntarily, “if we remain to breakfast, it would seem wise that you should breakfast with Cornelius and I with Herman. Are they married, by the way?”
“Cornelius is.”
“And does Mrs Nel share her husband’s prejudices?”
Honor reflected a moment. Then unexpectedly she broke into a laugh.
“Mrs Nel is of the opinion that had the Lord intended the different peoples of the earth to remain on friendly terms. He would never have contrived the confusion of tongues.”
“Ah!” Matheson’s smile broadened. “There is a good deal to be urged in defence of her argument,” he said.
“Do you know,”—Honor glanced at him swiftly—“I believe they will like you. You have none of the irritating characteristics of the average Englishman.”