This German did not recover his presence of mind until he reached Johannesburg. Then, when he saw Ned on the platform, he ran panic-stricken out of the station, vowing that these Englishwomen were demons, and that it would be a long time before he wasted his attentions on another of this ungrateful nation.
“Good-bye, Clara,” said Ned, as he stood with his bonnet-box and bag on the platform. “Take care of yourself, dear, and don’t go falling in love with a Boer.”
“Don’t be afraid, Edwina darling. I’ll go for the cruel wretches if they try to persecute me, as you did with that nasty German.”
“Dort’s all right, meme leetle pigeon,” shouted a bearded burgher, showing his big face near. “You just wait till you are asked, then you vil be von fine old woman.”
“Don’t mind the rude fellow, Clara,” cried Ned, warningly. But Clarence was too quick; with a back-handed slap he sent the Boer staggering backwards a dozen paces.
“Couldn’t hold my hand back, Eddy dear. Englishwomen aren’t used to these compliments, you know.”
“Be careful,” said Ned. “Remember our positions.” The burgher took his blow, however, without resentment. Several of his countrymen were laughing at him, therefore he slunk away quietly.
“Good-bye, and trusting we may meet soon.”
Ned watched the train start with watering eyes, then he stalked out of the station and straight to the Three Ace Club.
As he passed through the streets he noticed that things appeared much quieter than when he was there before. The police did not interfere so much with the citizens, nor were the armed Boers so aggressive. It seemed as if a more tolerant spirit was ruling their behaviour.