He stalked off at a furious pace. I followed him as meekly as the Barotsi woman I had observed at the falls. Only I wasn’t carrying a frying pan on my head. He walked so fast that it was very difficult to keep up with him.
“Harry,” I said at last, in a meek voice, “are we going to walk all the way to Rhodesia?”
He turned suddenly and with a great shout of laughter gathered me up in his arms.
“I’m mad, sweetheart, I know it. But I do love you so.”
“We’re a couple of lunatics. And, oh, Harry, you never asked me, but I’m not making a sacrifice at all! I wanted to come!”