Walking home that evening on the bush path James heard a scurry of hoofs and saw the big outline of Godovius cantering down on his Somali mule, with a Waluguru boy running at his stirrup. Godovius, too, spotted him, and waved him a cheery good-evening. James guessed that he had been up at the mission. He determined to speak to Eva.
When he reached home he found her busy laying the table for him. She seemed happy and well: she was humming to herself an old song that reminded him of Far Forest. He would speak to her now . . .
He said: “Has Mr. Godovius been here?”
“Yes . . . he has only just gone.”
“Why does he come here?”
She wondered why he was asking this with such intensity. “Why on earth shouldn’t he?” she said. “He is very kind.”
“I don’t wish him to come here. I don’t think he is a good man. I don’t think he is fit company for you. To-day—” He stopped, for it struck him that he might appear foolish if he went on. He said: “You like him?”
“No . . . I don’t think I do, exactly. I don’t mind him. He’s . . . he’s funny, you know. . . . I don’t think I understand him.”
“Has he been making love to you?” James asked in a whisper.
Eva blushed.