Mma Makutsi was quick to nod her assent. “Yes, they do, but, and you can call me old-fashioned maybe, but I have always thought that men are particularly important. That is just the way I have been brought up, you see.”

This remark seemed to make Phuti Radiphuti smile even more. “I hope that you are not too traditional in your views,” he said. “Modern men do not like that. They like wives who have their own views.”

“Oh, I have those all right,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. “I do not let anybody else do my thinking for me.”

“That is g … g … good,” said Phuti Radiphuti. He had realised that he had been speaking smoothly and without a stutter, and the realisation made him stumble slightly, but he felt relieved that his omitting to tell Mma Makutsi why he had not arrived for dinner seemed not to have upset her. And now the words came tumbling out, as he explained about his aunt’s illness and about his trip to the hospital. She reassured him that although she had noticed his absence, she had realised that he must have a good reason and that she had not been worried.

You’re such a liar, Boss, her shoes suddenly said to her. But Mma Makutsi, listening to the man who, once again, was to be her husband, had no time for the grumbling of shoes and did not hear them.

“Now, then,” said Phuti Radiphuti. “Shall we look at other chairs, or is that the one you like?”