Brenda was on the stoep waiting for him when Matheson reached the house. She must have witnessed the parting between him and the Aplin girls, which had been sufficiently leisurely to excite resentment in view of her long wait. He forestalled any remark by apologising for his lateness. "I'm awfully sorry," he said. "Twice I was stopped on the way here. I ought to have been with you half an hour ago. I met a man--a Dutchman-- Nel: he kept me. He wants me to join Botha's army." She scrutinised him closely. "And you're going to?" she said. "Yes." "These changes are a little unsettling," she observed after a brief reflection. "I was quite prepared for Europe." "You don't mind?" he asked quickly. "No." She stood touching his coat softly, caressingly, with her fingers; and her eyes wore a look of quiet satisfaction, almost of relief. "I've dreaded France for you. Out here a man has a chance--a sporting chance; over there it's a war of chemicals. No; I'm not brave. I never wanted you to go." "One has to defend the Empire," he said. "Oh! yes." She smiled suddenly. "No woman really admires the man who thinks otherwise. But..." She broke off abruptly, and pulled him towards a seat on the stoep and sat down beside him. "Tell me, who is this man? Why should a Dutchman influence you so strongly? I tried from the first to persuade you to join the Union Forces. I'm jealous of this Dutchman." He laughed and possessed himself or her hand and pressed it warmly. "He's a Boer I met up country--one of the finest men I know. He has the welfare of South Africa at heart--like Botha and Smuts." "Oh! a loyal Boer," she said. Matheson made a gesture of impatience. "That term is applied so differently," he said. "He is one of the men who are on our side, if you mean that." "Well, but that's being loyal, isn't it?" she said. "Loyal to one's conception of right--yes. I imagine one needs to be Dutch to see the thing clearly. He is not a son of Empire; he's a South African, heart and soul. His brother is on the other side." "Ah!" she said. "A rebel. That's painful for him." "Yes," he agreed. "It cuts him, of course, badly. But he regrets this difference rather than condemns it. That's where the wider understanding of race comes in: he discriminates between sedition and mistaken ideals." "And he has tutored you?" she said. "He--and others." He looked away from her, aware of her searching scrutiny. Did she guess, he wondered, that Nel was somehow connected with the story of Honor? His sympathies with the Dutch, he felt, must wound her in a sense. "I'll tell you why he wants you to join Botha's army," she said, after a short pause; and Matheson was conscious that the fingers of the hand he held closed suddenly tighter about his own--"why you mean to do that rather than go to Europe--because you also understand... You've gone into this question, and you can regard it without prejudice. I wish I could do that."