'I think,' he was saying, 'I ought to see to getting another pure bred bull to build up the herd a bit.'
At the familiar words 'build up the herd' Norah's restraint snapped. When you consider that she had loyally suppressed her feelings for over two years, perhaps her outburst may be forgiven her.
'What's the good of building up the precious herd, when you can't sell the brutes? Do you think I've come to live like a Hottentot in this desert to watch you acting midwife to a lot of humpbacked African cows for their sakes? I never see you all day, except at meals when you're eating, and in the evenings, when you're sleeping. I believe you think more of your heifers than you do of your wife.'
Slowly Archie answered.
'It's the only safe line, Norah. If we build up...' he checked himself in time. 'We've got the best herd in the country and it's getting better all the time. When times are normal, we'll sell well. It'll be easier for you in the new house, and it's only a question of time....'
'So's life, Archie, only a question of time. Three score years and ten of it, isn't it? And I've had twenty-four already. How long do you want us to go on?'
But you can supply without my help the stock complaints of an over-wrought woman.
The storm ended unusually for Norah in tears. Silently, Archie tried to soothe her. He was thinking harder than he had for many a day. Constant manual work leaves little room for thought. Typically, he gave no utterance to his meditation. He liked to work things out in his mind, bring his matured plan to a successful issue, and then, and not till then, announce his conclusion. That was his habit, and he pursued it now. Had he told Norah his thoughts, well, it would have spoiled my story and saved a life.
As it was, Norah retired to bed with her nerves in shreds, and Archie dined alone with his nomadic guest, whom a string of 'sundowners' seemed to stimulate. His shrill voice was audible through the mud walls till a late hour. Archie talked more than his wont, and seemed to be asking questions. Only once were any words distinguishable.
'It's a bargain,' said Mr. Jones of the Congo.