The man was silent, troubled. He had not the heart to argue with the girl, perhaps he thought, and rightly thought, that this strange illusion of the brain, this confident belief in her own convictions, would help to tide her over the first days to follow.
"I cannot understand," he said, "how Mrs. —— could have asked you to shake hands with her."
"Oh, I was wrong," Hansie said. "She meant it kindly. How could she understand? I will apologise—to-morrow."
It had been arranged that Hansie should spend a few days in London to see some friends before proceeding to Holland.
She found the mighty metropolis in the throes of preparation for an event of unparalleled magnificence.
Every sign of splendour and rejoicing was a fresh sword through the heart of our sorely tried young patriot.
The people with whom she stayed, old Pretoria friends, had not an inkling of what was passing in her mind.
Their warm and loving greetings, their loud expressions of delight that the war had come to an end at last, were so many pangs added to her grief.
"You will come with us to the Coronation?" her hostess said; "we have splendid reserved seats, and this event will be unparalleled in the history of England."