"Don't cry, dear little wife," he said tenderly. "Please God, I'll come back to you safe and sound."
"Oh, Harold, you will, I know you will!" she said earnestly. "Nothing will happen to you. I dreamed it did, Harold, and dreams always go by contraries, you know. Dearest, if only I were coming with you, I wouldn't mind."
"Dear Brenda, it is better as it is; besides, I should have had to leave you at Cape Town. You could not have come to the front. No, dear, you stay with your father, and pray for a speedy end to the war. Remember you are my wife now, Brenda, so I have no fear of any harm coming to you through that scoundrel Van Zwieten."
"He is here, Harold. I saw him among the crowd. I have no fear for you, dear, there at the front; but--well, I am afraid of Van Zwieten's treachery."
"But he is in England, dearest; he can't hurt me out there."
"He is leaving for the Cape almost immediately. Father told me so."
"Well, then," laughed Harold to comfort her, "if I see him in the ranks of the enemy I'll shoot him before he can take sight at me. Will that do?"
"Harold, he won't be in the ranks of the enemy."
"Why not? The fellow is a Boer--or to all intents and purposes will be when he takes up his Transvaal appointment."
"That's just it. He has given up the appointment and is going out as correspondent to The Morning Planet."