"He can't shut you out, at any rate," said Kamis, half-aloud.
"Can't he?" she said. "Can't he, though! Can't stand there feelin' noble and righteous and point to the veld and shut the door with a big slam? You don't know him."
She rose again presently, clicking her tongue between her teeth at the anguish of her swollen and abraded feet.
"The Boers got sense," she said. "A person 's a fool to go on foot."
It was the only reference she made to her pain and weariness.
It was long past midnight when they came at last past the sheds behind the farmhouse and saw that there was yet a light in the kitchen. The window shone broad and yellow in the vague bulk of the house, and as they lifted their faces towards it, a shadow moved across it, grotesque and abrupt after the manner of shadows, which seem to have learned from men how to mock their makers.
"That 's Christian," said Mrs. du Preez, whispering harshly.
"Are you afraid?" asked Kamis. "Will you sit here while I go and speak to him first?"
"No," she replied. "No use. This is where I get what's comin' to me. I wish I wasn't so done up, though. If he knew, I believe p'r'aps he 'd let me off till the morning. But he doesn't know, and it wouldn't be him if he did."
"Better let me speak to him first," urged Kamis. "I could tell him—"