"It emboldens me to embark on a very disagreeable subject which I have been saving up to discuss with you. We cannot evade it much longer; so—if you have the patience—?"
"I am always patient with you, Mrs. Stott. There are few people I respect more...."
"Thank you. Then I shall take up an hour or more of your time, if you are not very busy. But how is Lucy?"
"Lucy is not well; anæmic, Dr. Wiese says. I should send her home, only she refuses to go without me and I can't leave till next year. Dr. Wiese does not insist on her going before then. He is trying a new tonic which seems to be blood-making; it ought to be, because—though I do not tell Lucy—it is made of blood—one of these new German inventions. Wiese says if we would only do like the Masai and the Iraku: tap the veins of our cattle and drink the hot blood—"
"Ugh! don't let's talk about it; it makes me sick. I'm almost a vegetarian, you know. Couldn't we go into your study? It is delicious here on the verandah, but I don't want to be overheard."
"Certainly: come this way."
"What wonderful petunias, yours are! I never saw such glowing colours. Your whole garden is a joy to the eye and a credit to the Concession...."
"You're right. But the credit lies with Riemer, the plantation manager; he gives it an eye. The Germans are wonderful horticulturists. I don't think we sufficiently appreciate that fact at home. They are as good as the Dutch. Now then, here we are in my sanctum—rather untidy, I fear.... Take this chair..."
"No, it is too reclining. I do like an upright straight-backed chair when I want to speak out. My daughters say I'm like a character in one of Dickens's books, who could never loll. They're wonderful readers and remember everything they've read...."
"Well now, what's the trouble?"