"You know there's no post.

Only runners." Both paused to watch a black man in white linen drawers running through the pale fields for dear life, with a large brown-paper parcel in his hands.

Josephine's black man was tiny; he scurried along glistening like an ant.

But there was something blind and tireless about Constantia's tall, thin fellow, which made him, she decided, a very unpleasant person indeed...

On the veranda, dressed all in white and wearing a cork helmet, stood Benny.