“A little fasting will improve my figure,” I said, with a sigh.

We were interrupted by a telegram being handed to me. I read it with amazement:

“Anne is safe. Here with me at Kimberley. Suzanne Blair.”

I don’t think I ever really believed in the annihilation of Anne. There is something peculiarly indestructible about that young woman⁠—she is like the patent balls that one gives to terriers. She has an extraordinary knack of turning up smiling. I still don’t see why it was necessary for her to walk out of the hotel in the middle of the night in order to get to Kimberley. There was no train, anyway. She must have put on a pair of angel’s wings and flown there. And I don’t suppose she will ever explain. Nobody does⁠—to me. I always have to guess. It becomes monotonous after a while. The exigencies of journalism are at the bottom of it, I suppose. “How I shot the rapids,” by our special correspondent.