"Yes. And where could you live better than in a new land, where the vices of civilization have not penetrated! I don't speak of Johannesburg, that sink of iniquity, but of Pretoria, and of those towns where the Boer element exists pure and simple, With your husband in the Government you can help him to build up an ideal state." "I don't want to build up anything. Harold and I can be happy by ourselves." "You shall never marry the scamp, I tell you," cried Scarse, angrily. "Let alone his character, which is bad, he is the cousin of that scoundrel Malet, who is a bigoted Imperialist--one who is doing his best to ruin this country by advocating annexation of all and everything. He is one of those who are urging on this war. I hate the man." "Only because you differ from him in politics." "No, on other grounds which do not concern you. I know Malet--none better--and I would gladly see him dead." "Father!" Brenda was amazed at the savage energy of the old man. "What has Mr. Malet done to you that you should hate him so?" "Never mind! I hate him and I hate that young Burton." "Well, father," said Brenda, quietly, "you need not have shown it quite so plainly to-day. Harold said you met him this afternoon and cut him." This was a tentative remark, as Brenda was certain her father could not have been out. "Met Burton!" said he, raising himself angrily. "What do you mean, child?" "Were you not out to-day?" "No, I have not left this room." "But Harold said he saw you with a snuff-colored coat and a crape scarf round your throat. Father!" Brenda shrieked, "what is it?" She might well ask. Scarse was always pale, but now he was deathly white. He reared himself out of his chair with a look of terror in his eyes. It was in broken sentences he spoke. "Did . . . Harold Burton . . . see me . . . with a crape scarf . . . to-day?" "Yes, yes; but was it you, father? Why did you wear----" "Hush! Say no more, Brenda. Go away." A faint color was coming back to his face, and he began to look more like himself, less like a corpse. Brenda was about to demur at leaving him, but he stopped her with a peremptory gesture. "Go away, Brenda, I say." "But won't you explain----" "There is nothing to explain; go away."