"Thanks awfully." Margaret shivered as the dripping handkerchief pressed upon her brow let loose drops that gravitated to her neck and zigzagged under the collar of her blouse. "I 'm feeling much better now. I 'd rather sit up, really."
"So long as you haven't got that tight feeling," conceded Mrs. du Preez.
She stood off, watching the girl in a manner that expressed something striving within her mind.
"All right now?" she asked, when Margaret had got rid of the wet handkerchief.
"Quite," Margaret assured her. "Thanks ever so much."
Mrs. du Preez arranged the glass and jug neatly upon the iron tray on which they had made their appearance.
"Miss Harding," she said suddenly. "I know."
"Oh? What do you know?" inquired Margaret.
Mrs. du Preez glanced round to see that Paul had obeyed her.
"I know all about it," she answered, with reassuring frowns and nods. "Your Fat Mary told my Christian Kafir and she told me. About—about Kamis; you know."