He laughed at her words--a deep, round chuckle it was.
"It didn't exactly hang itself; it lay over the back of a Chesterfield where I could see it and breakfast too." "A Chesterfield in a breakfast-room! That's more like the furniture of a boudoir." "Well, it was a boudoir." He blushed a little in spite of himself.
"Ah!...

Al'mah's?
Well, she owed you a breakfast, at least, didn't she ?" "Not so good a breakfast as I got." "That is putting rather a low price on her life," she rejoined; and a little smile of triumph gathered at her pink lips; lips a little like those Nelson loved not wisely yet not too well, if love is worth while at all.
"T didn't see where you were leading me," he gasped, helplessly.

"I give up.

I can't talk in your way." "What is my way ?" she pleaded with a little wave of laughter in her eyes.
"Why, no frontal attacks--only flank movements, and getting round the kopjes, with an ambush in a drift here and there." "That sounds like Paul Kruger or General Joubert," she cried in mock dismay.

"Isn't that what they are doing with Dr.Jameson, perhaps ?" His face clouded.