'Why don't you take over mine?' Dick pressed her.
'D'you mean it? Suk-snatching isn't beyond me.'
'Of course I mean it! And, look here, do give your household a chance of getting straight and dine with me to-night.'
'Love to!' said Norah.
For the next three days Dick laid close siege to Norah's heart. Such siege of a woman alone on a lonely farm may not have been scrupulous. But when did Venus teach scruples? Her reputation was ill enough in the old Island years, and her latter day registration, under the Anglo-Saxon name of Natural Selection, has changed nothing.
The dinner was Dick's first move, and an intelligent one. The hours that succeeded it before Norah's eyes closed in forgetfulness testified its success. After the roseate glow of the Pommery, with which Dick's admirable table boy had plied her, had worn off, her mind still lingered among golden moments.
'I won't insult you with an iceless cocktail?' he had said.
'My last drink,' she retorted, 'was the mead the White Fathers brew at the Chambezi!'
'That curious compound of honey and fermented mealies?'
'The local gourmets walk a hundred miles to drink it.'