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such damned
    nonsense in my life. Do you think I’m going to let you go driving cars all over Africa by yourself?”
    “Cara would be perfectly safe for the part of the trip, she made by herself.” Lady Baradale’s tone was quite expressionless. “I will talk with Cara.”
    “You can talk yourself sick,” the girl said. She tossed the straying lock of hair out of her eyes with a jerk of the head, and drained her glass. “You make me tired. I can’t prevent you giving Luke the sack, but if you think you can stop me seeing him when I want to, you’re crazy. I know
    perfectly well what’s going on here. You’re such a lot of damned snobs you want to get Luke out of the way. Well, you’re wasting your time, and
    you’ll soon know it.” She jumped to her feet and walked, quickly but unsteadily, towards her tent.
    “Good Lord,” Catchpole remarked. “Cara gets
    more and more Katherine Hepburn every day.
    Someone ought to warn her, or she’ll wake up and find she’s been turned into a lonely little gamin.
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    He got up and helped himself to another gin-andFrench.
    “Someone!” snorted Lord Baradale. “Someone
    be damned! If you had the guts of a ferret,
    Gordon, you wouldn’t stand back and let this sort of thing go on in front of your nose. Why don’t you — “
    “Thomas! Remember where you are!” Lady
    Baradale’s voice was sharp and peremptory. Her husband checked himself and subsided into his chair. His face looked flushed and angry and, somehow, frustrated.
    “Whose fault is it?” he asked. He was still breathing heavily. “This trip was your idea. You’ve
    driven her into it. It was you who — “
    “Be quiet, Thomas!” The drawl in Lady
    Baradale’s voice had given way to the snap of command. “You can’t blame it on me if your
    daughter prefers to go around with an illiterate Boer instead of with a boy from her own class. Mr Vachell, we dine at eight-thirty. Thomas, please light me to my tent.”
    Lord Baradale picked up a safari lamp from a
    row on the ground and escorted his wife to her tent. De Mare, remarking that he needed a bath, took another lamp and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Vachell and Catchpole alone.
    “I’m so glad you’ve come,” the young baronet
    remarked. He smiled a little wistfully, and poured out another gin-and-French. His face was finely moulded and effeminate, his body slim and
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    willowy. He had soft blond hair with a slight wave. “You look so sensible. To tell the truth, this safari has begun to get on my nerves. I’m sure Luke Englebrecht is highly satisfactory as a lover, though he doesn’t seem to me to have a spark of imagination, but I must admit that I find him boring. Of course, I should be the last person in the world to try to prevent Cara, poor sweet, from having a bit of fun, but I can’t pretend the situation’s easy.”
    “I should say not,” Vachell agreed. Catchpole’s voice was growing a little squeaky, and there was no doubt that the numerous gin-and-Frenches he had put away were having their effect.
    “You know, I like you,” he went on expansively.
    “I know instinctively when I meet some
    one I can trust. It’s all very awkward, as I was saying. Lucy’s a dear, but she hasn’t an atom of tact. I really can’t blame Cara for resenting the whole thing. After all, she never pretended to be in the least in love with me. But she hasn’t a bean of her own, poor sweet. I’d drop this marriage idea tomorrow, but Lucy’s so dominating. And then, of course, I’ve got a very expensive interior decorating business to keep up. I must say, Lucy’s been an angel over that.”
    Vachell was uncertain of the correct response.
    He drained his whisky and ventured: “I guess you can’t let Lady Baradale down.”
    Catchpole nodded his head emphatically and
    groped for his glass. He was having difficulty in 31
    focusing his eyes. “That’s just it,” he said. “I knew you’d understand. It would break Lucy’s
    heart