"It's wonderful--this," she said, gazing out of the window at the wide sweep of country through which they were passing. "I've never been up the line before. It's new to me, travelling through sunlit spaces like this. See the flowers in the veld. I can smell them as we pass." He looked from the window with her, sharing her pleasure in the unexpected beauty which developed and changed surprisingly, became more assertive, more strikingly characteristic with every mile they traversed, as leaving the green fertility of the Peninsula, and the blue line of the Atlantic, behind, the train plunged into the rugged open country, where the long lush grass was splashed with vivid colour, with the orange and purple and crimson of the wild flowers that struggled amid the tangled growth; where the mountain ranges showed blue in the blue distance, which like an azure veil spread itself over the golden riot of the sunshine. "I've dwelt in fancy on this often," he said,--"travelling with you,-- seeing new places with you. I'm fond of scenery. I like going about. But always I take you with me in imagination. I knew you'd enjoy it. I enjoy it as I never enjoyed before--because of you." Pamela did not remove her gaze from the landscape, but she slipped her hand along the ledge of the window until it met his; and for a while they remained in silence, watching the view together. "I have often had a feeling that some day we should do this journey, you and I," he said presently. "But I didn't suppose it would be under these conditions... God knows what I thought! I've always been a dreamer... I pictured breaking the journey with you. There are one or two places along the line that are well worth a visit. It makes the journey easier. You will be pretty well tired out before we reach Pretoria." She nodded. "Yes," she said. "But we couldn't do that." "No; I suppose we can't. That's the pity of it. But it is good as it is," he added, glancing at her with a smile. "We'll make the most of this... Why not? It's the finish. It will be something for me to look back upon anyway, when you are just a memory to me." Her face clouded at his words, suggesting in their quiet finality the complete separation which the end of the journey promised. In their frank acknowledgement of their mutual love, both realised that meeting in the future was impossible, at any rate for many years. Perhaps when time had reconciled them to parting they might meet again as friends. "I have secured a berth for myself in the next compartment," he observed, after a pause. "I've got it to myself. So if you require anything when I am not with you, you have only to knock in to me, and I shall hear. When you want to be alone, just say the word, and I'll dear out."