She began to talk to me of her difficulties, her troubles and her ambitions.

She asked me for my advice as to Saduko.

On this point I replied to her that, if she loved him, and her father would allow it, presumably she had better marry him.
"I like him well enough, Macumazahn, although he wearies me at times; but love-- Oh, tell me, _what_ is love ?" Then she clasped her slim hands and gazed at me like a fawn.
"Upon my word, young woman," I replied, "that is a matter upon which I should have thought you more competent to instruct me." "Oh, Macumazahn," she said almost in a whisper, and letting her head droop like a fading lily, "you have never given me the chance, have you ?" And she laughed a little, looking extremely attractive.
"Good gracious!"-- or, rather, its Zulu equivalent--I answered, for I began to feel nervous.

"What do you mean, Mameena?
How could I--" There I stopped.
"I do not know what I mean, Macumazahn," she exclaimed wildly, "but I know well enough what you mean--that you are white as snow and I am black as soot, and that snow and soot don't mix well together." "No," I answered gravely, "snow is good to look at, and so is soot, but mingled they make an ugly colour.

Not that you are like soot," I added hastily, fearing to hurt her feelings.