by Hilary Wilde
CHAPTER III
UBITO proved to be a smaller town than Sally had expected. As she drove down the single main street, she looked at the few stores, a tumbledown garage and two hotels, one on either side of the crossroads, facing one another as if defiantly. "What a dorp!" Kay, by Sally's side, said. "Drive straight on. Sally, turn first left, then over the bridge and drop me off at the Club." It had taken them an hour and a half to drive from M'Lita. Sally's face felt padded with dust. Kay, by her side, had twisted a piece of mosquito netting over her face and head, and was now removing it. It was bitterly cold up here, for it was over five thousand feet above sea level and both the girls, halfway up the mountain-side, had stopped to put on coats. It had been a surprise to Sally that morning when Kay announced she wanted a lift to town. "If I don't see someone to talk to or play tennis with today," Kay had said, "I'll start screaming." She watched sullenly as Douglas examined Sally's cut forehead, pronounced it okay and put a piece of plaster on to it. "Sure you feel well enough to drive. Sally?" Douglas asked, his grey eyes concerned. Sally laughed. "Quite sure, thanks." It was then that Kay followed Sally to her bedroom and announced that she was going along with her. "You can shop while I play tennis, then come and pick me up at the Club and we'll have lunch in town before coming home. Okay?" said Kay. In the Land Rover, Kay had hardly stopped talking. 38 THE GOLDEN VALLEY "You have all the lucky breaks. Sally. Fancy meeting that gorgeous beast, Jonathan Nesfield, under such romantic circumstances," she began, tucking her legs under her. She wore a tennis frock and her hair was brushed to hang down to her shoulders. Sally drove steadily, wishing she was alone, for she had so much to think about also she wanted to notice different things on the roadside. The cluster of huts that formed a kraal the tidy yard in which swarmed small Xhosa children playing with the thin, greyhound-like dogs, the women as they bent over their black cooking pots, or straightened to look at the cloud of dust as the Land Rover went by. "He was at the dance last night," Kay went on. As Sally turned to look at her, startled, she hastily added: "I forgot to tell you there was a Club dance. Sally, and you were sleeping so peacefully, I decided not to wake you up. You don't mind?" "Of course not," Sally said quickly. "I wasn't in the mood for dancing." "That's what I thought," Kay said with a laugh. "Douglas was mad at me. He said the dance would do you good, help you forget what had happened." Did she want to forget? Sally wondered. She had gone over the scene so many times in her thoughts as she lay in bed the day before, seeking a sleep that Kay had disturbed and that would not return. Remembering Ouma's passionate anger, her stout courage, her flashing eves, the scorn in her voice as she had asked Sally what sort of woman she was, wearing men's clothes. And Sally had remembered the warmth of Jonathan's arm as he held her reassuringly, helping her to recover from the dizziness, his apparent friendliness as they talked, and his swift change to one of arrogant authority as he asked for "the truth." "Your wonderful Jonathan was at the dance," Kay THE GOLDEN VALLEY chattered on. "Oh yes, I told you! The girls swarmed round him." "He is not my Jonathan," Sally said deliberately, "nor is he wonderful." She was conscious of Kay's head turning to glance at her curiously. 'You don't like him. Sally?" Sally hesitated and found a way to tell the truth, though it was not the complete truth. "Someimes I think I hate him," she said. Kay chuckled. "Good then if I make a beeline for him you won't mind?" Sally looked at her quickly. "I thought it was Douglas you liked." "He's all right, but. . ." Kay seemed to hesitate. "You like Douglas, Sally? What say we swop?" It made Sally laugh, and although her mirth offended Kay, Sally could not stop. She could just imagine Jonathan's face if he had been there to hear Kay's words. "I don't want either of them," Sally said when at last she managed to talk seriously. "You can have them both." "I think Douglas is interested in you. Sally," Kay chattered on. "He's always so worried about you in case you're alone or not well." "It's just his nature," said Sally. "He's made that way." Kay began grumbling because her father wanted to come to a country like this, miles from civilisation. Grumbling because she missed the shops and cinemas, grumbling until Sally managed to find a way to listen with half an ear sufficiently to give an occasional sympathetic murmur, while she thought of other things. The tokoloshe, for instance. There was something about the word that had triggered off wariness in Jonathan. Why had he asked if Malcolm White had told her about the creature? When she mentioned the THE GOLDEN VALLEY word to Malcolm, it had not rung a bell at all. He had obviously never heard of the tokoloshe. At last the long tiring journey they passed a number of cars and lorries on the road, each time being enveloped in the blinding choking cloud of dust ended, for they had reached Ub.ito. Sally drove through the quiet town slowly, following Kay's instructions. Once away from the single main road, they were back in pastoral country where cattle grazed optimistically on the yellow dry grass and small Xhosa boys ran along, waving at the Land Rover as it went by. The Club was quite impressive a long white building, the walls covered by purple-flowering bougainvillea, the gardens beautifully green and the flower beds ablaze with colour. "A big Club for such a small town," Sally remarked. Kay was looking worriedly in her mirror, smoothing her arched eyebrows, making sure her lashes were secure. "The town is the smallest part of the district," she said. "There are some very big farms round about. Plenty of money here. We may find the millionaire husbands we're searching for ... though I reckon Jonathan must be the most eligible of the lot." As Sally drove up to the front of the Club, Kay gathered her things together. "Pick me up about one o'clock. Sally. We can have a drink here and then find somewhere to eat. Only members can eat here unless you're a guest. Dad says it's not worth being a proper member of the Club." As she got out of the Land Rover, she turned and smiled at Sally. "Maybe it's just as well you're not interested in Jonathan, Sally. He was with the most gorgeous girl last night. She looked just like a model." Sally drove back to the town slowly. Trust Kay to leave a little titbit like that until the end! As if she cared how many beautiful girls Jonathan was with, Sally thought. THE GOLDEN VALLEY She parked the Land Rover near the small Post Office, going in to collect any mail there might be. There was a letter from Aunt Gabby, thick, and certain to be full of news, but the rest were for Malcolm White. Walking along the rough pavements. Sally was stopped by small Xhosa children carrying flat enamel bowls on their heads, which were filled with fruit and vegetables. She wanted to buy from the eager children, but Piet had warned her against it. "They charge the most ridiculous prices," he had told her, "and it's usually old stuff." He had told her how to get to the market. She found it, sprawled under a huge and obviously ancient tree, the Xhosa women squatting on the ground, their wares spread out on newspapers before them. Sally decided to buy the vegetables and fruit last because if she left anything in the Land Rover, Piet had said it would be gone before she could say Jack Robinson. There were three big stores, fascinating to Sally for they seemed to sell everything, including the kitchen stove. She wondered which was the best. She chose the cleanest and went inside, gazing at her shopping list. She still wore the copper-brown weatherproof coat she had taken in the Land Rover in case it was cold in Ubito, and underneath she wore dark green slacks and a cream blouse. Her hair felt dusty, tied back in a pony-tail, and she wished she had found time to make-up her face. But what did it matter? She wasn't likely to meet . . . A hand caught hold of her arm. "Sally!" a voice exclaimed. Sally swung round to see Jonathan by her side, smiling at her. He touched the plaster on her forehead lightly. "How's it. Sally? No bad headache?" he asked. "I'm fine," she said coldly. He went on smiling and there was a twinkle in his blue eyes as if amused by her behaviour. Did he think that she could so easily forget his accusations? she THE GOLDEN VALLEY thought angrily. He turned the charm on and off as it suited him, but she was not going to play along the way he wanted it to go. "I'm afraid I'm very busy," she said stiffly. I'm shop . . ." He gave her no time to finish her sentence as he. took the list from her hands, glancing down at it. "Hetty?" he called. A young, rather plump girl hurried up, her black hair cut
short and curling round her head. "Hetty," Jonathan cried, "your beautiful hair!" The girl, wearing a tight pink woollen blouse and a green tweed skirt, put her hand to her head and smiled. "It was so hot, Mr. Nesfield." Jonathan turned to Sally. "Sally, Hetty is one of the most courageous and stubborn girls I know," he said with a smile. "All her life she wanted to let her hair grow to her waist. Her mother fought every inch of the way because it was always untidy." He gave Hetty a quick smile. "But she won her day. Last time I saw you, Hetty, it was beautiful. Silky, black and beautiful. By the way, Hetty, this is Sally Hardwick. She's working for Mr. White who's renting Piet's house. Look after this list for her, will you? She'll come back later to pick up the things." "Of course, Mr. Nesfield, glad to," Hetty said warmly, giving Sally an appraising yet friendly look. "It'll be ready for you. Miss Hardwick." Sally found herself outside the shop, Jonathan's hand under her bended elbow, walking her along. "I wanted . . ." she began. "I wanted to talk to you," he said simply. She looked up at him. "You look a mess. Sally," he said frankly, and then laughed as he saw the colour fill her cheeks. "But quite the most delightful mess I've ever seen. Dust suits THE GOLDEN VALLEY red-gold hair, makes it shimmer in the sunshine. The colour of your coat's good for you, too," he added thoughtfully. Sally struggled with words. His "line," as Kay would have called it, irritated her. What right had he to say she looked a mess, even if she did, and then, after embarrassing her, turn it into a strange compliment? He looked immaculate as usual. Big, impressive, in a dark, well-cut suit a grey silk tie, a white silk shirt. He walked with an arrogant air, head held high, yet he had time to spare for a friendly word to the Xhosas as they passed. They all smiled, lifted a hand in greeting, and answered politely in the language that was all clicks and that she wished she understood. "Molo, Nkosi," she heard someone say. "What does Molo mean?" she asked Jonathan. He smiled at her. "Greetings." There was a cold wind that blew suddenly round corners, but the sun blazed down and every time a car drove along the road, they were smothered with dust. "Not exactly a beautiful town," Jonathan said casually. "Kay calls it a dorp." He looked at Sally. "She would," he said. "Is she with you?" "Playing tennis at the Club. I'm fetching her and we're going to lunch here." Jonathan looked thoughtful. "I should try the Central Hotel. They have the best food, such as it is." He glanced at his watch and Sally had a feeling that he wanted to get rid of her. "I have to go to the market," she said stiffly. "That can wait," he told her. "I was thinking, Sally . . ." He was in a friendly mood. Sally saw, and she wondered if perhaps this was not the right moment to enlist his aid, Mr. White had asked her to and she had also THE GOLDEN VALLEY thought it might make Jonathan realise that she was serious about her work. "Jonathan," she interrupted him without meaning to, "I wondered if you could give us introductions to any of the Chiefs around here? I mean, so that I could meet them and discuss the.ir rites and . . " Jonathan stood still. "Oddly enough, I know the very man. His name is Keremido. He's quite an important person locally, was educated in England and America and has his people's welfare at heart. I could arrange a meeting. He has a hundred wives . . ." He smiled at her expression, "but I won't suggest you meet them all. You could see some tribal dancing." Sally stared at him in amazement. It had been as easy as this! And she had dreaded asking him for help, she thought. "It would be marvellous, Jonathan," she said. "I'm most grateful." He took her arm again for both had paused for a moment. "Actually, I was on my way to introduce you to someone else who can help you," he said. "This way." There was a group of Xhosas standing round the entrance to a shop down a side turning. Outside it hung a faded notice which had a barely discernible painting of a black bull on it. "This," said Jonathan, as the group of Xhosas stood back to let them enter the dark shop, "is known as the Shop of the Black Bull. Here all your ailments can be cured, your enemies destroyed." Sally was looking round her curiously. It was dark inside the shop and there was a strange smell. Snakeskins dangled from the ceiling, draped in festoons round an iron pole, hanging low enough to lightly touch a tall person's head. On the walls were grotesque masks, with empty holes- for eyes and mouth. Some were carved, THE GOLDEN VALLEY others burned with red-hot irons. There were heads and pelts of wild animals and on a shelf rows of mysterious-looking bottles, some of them containing strange objects that seemed to be floating in water. A short man with bowed legs and a tuft of black hair growing from the middle of his bald head, came hurrying to greet them. "I find this I cannot believe. It is Mr. Nesfield himself," he said, his voice warm as he held out both hands in greeting. "I am honoured that of your precious time you can spare a moment." Jonathan held both his hands and grinned. "The rot you talk. Jacobus! You know this is my favourite spot in Ubito." He turned to Sally. "I want you to meet Jacobus, Sally. He's the local white witch-doctor." Jacobus looked startled, glanced over his shoulder, and limped awkwardly to the door, speaking to those waiting outside, and closing it. "Please not to make a joke of that," he said as he limped back. His face was swarthy and his eyes deeply sunken in a face that seemed made up of bones with skin stretched tautly across it. "You know better, Mr. Nesfield. Life these days is complicated enough." He turned to Sally with a courteous bow that seemed to belong to a previous generation. "I have much pleasure in meeting any friend of Mr. Nesfield's." "This is Miss Hardwick, Jacobus. She is working as secretary and general dogsbody for Mr. White," Jonathan told him. Sally wondered if it was her imagination that Jonathan's voice had changed slightly as he spoke the name of the man he distrusted, but she did see the way Jacobus' dark eyes lightened as if his interest was caught. "Miss Hardwick is a very clever girl. Jacobus, so treat her with proper respect. She is an anthropologist," Jonathan went on. THE GOLDEN VALLEY Jacobus bowed again. "I am honoured and delighted. If I can help Miss Hardwick in any way with her research . . ." He hesitated. "Would you, I wonder, excuse me for a second?" he asked appealingly. "I have a private customer in my den." "Of course," Jonathan chuckled. "I'll keep an eye on Miss Hardwick until you're free. I'd hate her to swallow some of your medicines by accident!" "That, Mr. Nesfield, could never occur. The young lady is a person with sense. I will be quick if I can," he added, hurrying away and vanishing through a curtain made of goatskins that hung across an opening. "I'll be all right," Sally said to Jonathan. "I'm in no hurry," he said. "Come and see some of these things. Jacobus fled from his native land when the men of his race were being persecuted in 1937," he continued. "He's never admitted it, but I think he was a doctor, probably a very important one. He still has relations in his homeland, so he doesn't seek publicity and has hidden away all these years in this backwater. He's done a great deal of good and is locally very much respected. I think he'll be a help to you." "It was good of you to think . . ." Sally began. Jonathan looked down at her. He seemed to fill the tiny dark shop. "You think so?" he asked, his voice amused. "I wonder you don't think I might be setting a trap to catch you out. After all. Jacobus will soon discover what you know or don't know about anthropology." Sally's face was hot. "I have nothing to fear," she said, trying not to lose her temper. "Then neither have I," said Jonathan. He took her arm and led her to the counter. A stuffed crocodile hung suspended above it, on a level with Jonathan's eyes. On the counter were beads of every colour, rows and rows of THE GOLDEN VALLEY them. Jonathan drew out a drawer in a small chest that stood at the end of the counter. He showed her some powdery dust. "This, Sally, is minced dried skin and hair. It could be human skin, of course. Awkward questions like that are better left unasked," he said with a quick grin at her. "It's mooti for a certain illness. You'll have to ask Jacobus about it." He turned to one of the bottles on the shelf. "This is made of baboon dung, mixed with water. If you have indigestion or a stomach ache, it's a certain cure." He pointed to a box with a label. "That's made of seal's fat. It's got some long name wait a moment and I'll remember it I've got it, injayodwawdle. It's wonderful, I'm told, if you have rheumatism or suffer the pains of being old." He glanced at his watch just as Jacobus came through the goatskin curtain with a low apology.
Jonathan smiled. "That's all right. I know it isn't easy to get rid of some of your patients, but I'd better be on my way. I've got an appointment and I'm already twelve and a half minutes late." He chuckled. "Not that I'm at all concerned, for she often keeps me waiting for an hour. See you. Sally," he said with a friendly smile at her, and then he looked at Jacobus. "I'm sure you'll be able to help her." The doorbell clanged as he shut the door behind him. Silently they watched him walk down the narrow lane towards the main road. A big, impressively-built man with a proud lift to his head and a way of striding effortlessly. A strange man. Sally was thinking. She was startled when Jacobus spoke quietly; it was as if he had read her thoughts. "A strange man so strong, so wise and yet so afraid," he said sadly. Sally was startled. "Afraid?" THE GOLDEN VALLEY Jacobus nodded, clasping his hands in front of him as he looked at her. "He is a man who .is searching and how can he be but afraid when he does not know for what he is looking?" he asked. He smiled, his taut skin wrinkling as he did so. "That is not good English, yes?" Sally laughed. "I understand what you meant, but ..." 'You find it impossible to agree?" Jacobus asked politely. "All that you see. Miss Hardwick, is the handsome outside, the bluff he wears to hide his own dismay. In his family, there have been many tragedies. Never, for them, has the love lasted or been true. Jonathan must be very sure before he decides." "Decides?" Sally echoed. The long gentle fingers of the "white witch-doctor" lightly closed round her arm. "Look and you will see about what I am speaking," he said quietly, pointing towards the main road. They could see clearly the people passing the opening and Sally saw Jonathan, a girl clinging to his arm as she looked at him and laughed. It was a brief glimpse only, but the picture stayed vividly in Sally's mind. This must be the girl Kay had seen. A tall girl, slender as a wand, only a few inches shorter than Jonathan. A girl who carried herself with poise and dignity, her head held high as the sun shone on her jet black hair. She was wearing a white frock, and even from that distance Sally could see the expensive elegant cut of it. Sally turned and saw Jacobus looking at her curiously. "Who is that?" she asked bluntly. "Cynthia Maddox," he told her. "She is a famous model. In the world, they will pay her anything she asks. But it is Jonathan she seeks. Her parents live here she made them come when they retired and they THE GOLDEN VALLEY are sad, but she is a spoilt girl and gets her own way except " he paused and gave a quiet chuckle "where Jonathan is concerned. You must forgive me if I call him that. Miss Hardwick. In public I am formal, but in private . . ." he shrugged his hunched shoulders. "I have known him many years." "Would you call me Sally?" Sally asked, and was rewarded by his smile. It lightened his face, bringing youth back to his tired eyes. "I am honoured," he said with a little bow. "As I was saying, Cynthia comes to Ubito only when Jonathan is here. Then she will how do you say? walk out of a job and give up everything. Nothing is in her life but Jonathan." "She loves him so much?" Sally said, wondering. Jacobus shrugged again. "Who can say? We watch and wait and hope that he will not behave like a young boy. He must think she must share his life, not he hers. He loves this country and she hates it. But she is very lovely and his for the asking. What man could refuse? She, too, is an unhappy person, seeking for something she knows not what." Sally tried to laugh. "And me? Am I also unhappy?" Jacobus surveyed her thoughtfully. "No. You may be angry, perhaps hurt, but never sad. For you know what you want out of life," he said. "I do?" Sally said, startled. He nodded. "You do." "Well, what do I want?" Sally persisted. Jacobus gave a smile that was somehow sweet. "I do not have to tell you. Sally. You try to make the fun of me, yes?" "No, I don't," she said earnestly, "because I honestly don't know what I want out of life. I love anthropology, but I don't think that could be my whole life. Since my father died a year ago . . ." THE GOLDEN VALLEY "Jeremiah Hardwick?" Jacobus asked. When she nodded, he smiled. "I thought perhaps it was so. I have read both of his books. I remember the islands of Greece and the book brought it back." Sally's eyes shone. "I helped him write the book." Now Jacobus would be able to tell Jonathan that it was true, she was an anthropologist, and not what he would call a "phoney," she thought happily. Jacobus smiled. "I am glad to know you. We will have some pleasant talks, yes? I am a lonely man and . . ." "I'll come and see you every time I come to town," Sally promised. "You can help me so much. But but please. Jacobus, what is it you think I want out of life?" she asked earnestly. He looked at her, a little smile tugging at his mouth. "Love, Sally. A man you can love, a man who will love you. A home that is, a home and not a how do you say it? showpiece. A home with noise and love and babies and . . ." Sally's face was hot. "Does it show so much?" Jacobus smiled serenely. "You have a beautiful face. It is full of love and kindness. You will find happiness." His voice changed. "I may have the pleasure to make you a cup of coffee? Good coffee?" "That would be lovely," Sally smiled. Perched on a stool in his "den," Sally sipped the "good coffee" which was strong and sweet, and looked at the beads Jacobus showed her. "This," he said, spreading out a wide band of red, white and blue beads, "tells the man that the girl loves him and wants to be one of his family. This is their way of talking. Is it not delightful, yes?" Sally handled the beautifully made necklace. "You mean they send messages by the beads they wear?" THE GOLDEN VALLEY "But of course. A girl is too shy to tell the man she loves him, but somehow he must be told or he will do nothing. This," he picked up a necklet of white beads, "is a promise of being true. But if she wears yellow beads, ah . . .!" He made a dramatic gesture. "She is a very angry girl the arrangement is broken " He vanished back into the shop, bringing a bracelet with him. "Before I forget, this I must say. Married women do not wear the necklaces with messages. Perhaps they have said enough or too much?" His eyes were twinkling merrily. "Also if you are in readiness to marry, you wear black beads. Is that not strange? I would have thought white were more proper." He showed her the bracelet. "This is made of elephant's hair. They think that if it is worn, they will have protection. Against what? you may ask. Fear. The enemy of mankind. And if your fear is too great to be endured, then you carry in your pocket a gallstone. That of an elephant. They cost money, of course. It is not easy to get the gallstone of an elephant." "You don't think it's wrong to sell them these things?" Sally asked a little nervously. He looked at her. "My child, if you can give a frightened man a little courage, is that so wrong? The witch doctors have much wisdom, and though they do some bad things, they are also good. Their knowledge of drugs is incredible. I try to learn it and one day will write of what I have learned. They know so much of poisons and, the more important thing, of antidotes. There is a certain black beetle. You kill it, grind it into powder, drop it into your enemy's beer, then phwat!" He cracked his fingers together. "He will die and no one will know what has happened. The poison goes through the body so fast a few hours. You choose a THE GOLDEN VALLEY quiet spot to drink to make it some time before the body is found and you are safe." He took Sally back to the front part of the shop, showing her the red ochre. "This comes in tins and we have to weigh it out, for the girls buy small packages. The wind it comes and pfui . . . that powder!" He sneezed expressively, his thick tufty black eyebrows raised in horror. "They want it for their hair and with the powder they cake it. You will have seen the way they plait their hair." Sally found it hard to drag herself away. She had made many notes and knew that Malcolm White would be pleased. She bought an assortment of beads, planning to send them home to East Croydon. Aunt Gabby would love them, she thought. "You are meeting a friend for lunch?" Jacobus asked, as they parted. "Jonathan, perhaps?" Sally laughed. "No, my friend, Kay White. I expect Jonathan is taking Cynthia Maddox out." Jacobus shrugged. "Perhaps maybe not. If he has not rung before and made an arrangement, she will not be available." He smiled at the expression on Sally's face. "You do not understand the game, my child. You are too young and straight. Miss Maddox, she keeps her men on a leash." He moved his hands expressively. "You understand? She likes to keep them dancing on the hot coals." Sally was still laughing with him as she stepped outside into the blinding sunshine.
She had to hurry to collect her groceries and a friendly smile from Hetty, and then went to the market to buy vegetables and fruit. The prices shocked her with a garden and several boys doing very little, Piet should grow vegetables at M'Lita. Maybe, she thought, if she could make them understand, she would start one. Fresh lettuces were so much nicer, and new potatoes and young carrots. THE GOLDEN VALLEY She parked outside the Club and hurried in, once again remembering that she had not looked in a mirror, combed back her hair or powdered her nose! The hall of the Club was modern, each wall a different colour. As Sally stood their, not sure where to find Kay, a woman, typing behind a small glass window, beckoned to her. Sally hurried to her side and the elderly, white-haired woman gave her an envelope. "You are Miss Hardwick?" "Yes. Thanks," Sally said, turning away to open it. It was from Kay. Brief and typically Kay! She had been asked out to lunch by an absolutely fascinating man and was sure Sally would understand. He was going to drive her home, so not to wait for her. Sally drew a long deep breath. She turned towards the entrance. She would go to the Central Hotel as Jonathan had suggested and then drive home. She had plenty of things to think of so she would not miss Kay. "Miss Hardwick, a moment! " the elderly woman cried, and Sally turned. Striding across the tiled hall towards her came Jonathan. "Been stood up. Sally?" he asked as he came closer. His face was friendly, his smile warm. But Sally felt wary. "Kay's gone out to lunch with a friend," she said. "Won't you join us?" Jonathan asked, indicating a row of tables on a paved terrace the other side of the big hall. "You're with someone," Sally said at once. "Cynthia and I are quarrelling, so we'll be glad if you'll join us," he said with a smile. "Quarrelling?" He laughed. "People do you know. Quite usual. She thinks I'm mad to stay here when I could be in New York." "And you?" THE GOLDEN VALLEY '55 "I like it here, and besides . . ." his face changed for a moment, becoming the cold mask she hated, "I have a job to do." He took her arm. "Come on. Sally, I won't take no for an answer. Cynthia refuses to believe that a young and pretty girl could be interested in anthropology." "But I am," Sally said, reluctantly going with him, having little choice unless she created a scene, yet horribly conscious that she must look her favourite word scruffy. Jonathan looked down at her oddly. "So you say," he told her.
