CHAPTER 2.III.Gregory Rose Finds His Affinity.
The new man, Gregory Rose, sat at the door of his dwelling, his arms folded, his legs crossed, and a profound melancholy seeming to rest over his soul.

His house was a little square daub-and-wattle building, far out in the karoo, two miles from the homestead.

It was covered outside with a sombre coating of brown mud, two little panes being let into the walls for windows.

Behind it were the sheep-kraals, and to the right a large dam, now principally containing baked mud.

Far off the little kopje concealed the homestead, and was not itself an object conspicuous enough to relieve the dreary monotony of the landscape.
Before the door sat Gregory Rose in his shirt-sleeves, on a camp-stool, and ever and anon he sighed deeply.