She looked at him, and noticed that there were dark patches in the armpits of his shirt. We are all human, all creatures of water and salt, all human. And she thought for a moment of her brother, her poor brother Richard, whom she had loved and looked after, and who had suffered from those dreadful fevers that bathed him in sweat at night. She could not hurt this man; she could not say to him, no, I cannot accept your kindness.

She agreed, and they left the room together. At the doorway, Mr Fanope smiled at them and said that he looked forward to seeing them the following Friday.

“You make a very good couple,” he said. “You are coming on nicely. You are a good dancer, Mma, and you, Rra, I think you will be good in the future.”

Mma Makutsi’s heart sank. If she had feared that she might be landed with this man at every class, then this fear had just been confirmed.

“I’m not sure that I shall be able to come here again,” she blurted out. “I am very busy.”

Mr Fanope shook his head. “You must come, Mma. Your friend here needs you to help him with his dancing, don’t you, Rra?”

Phuti Radiphuti beamed with pleasure, wiping his brow with a red handkerchief. “I am very happy dancing with …” The words came painfully slowly, and he was interrupted by Mr Fanope before he could finish.

“Good,” said the instructor. “We shall see you both then, next Friday. That is very good.” He gestured at the other dancers. “Some of these people over there don’t really need lessons. But you do.”

Outside, they walked in silence to the car park behind the hardware store. Phuti Radiphuti’s car was at the far end, a modest white car with a twisted aerial. Yet it was a car, which told Mma Makutsi something about him. As Mma Ramotswe would have pointed out to her, the mere fact that he has a car tells us something, Mma. It means that he has a good job. Now look at his hands, Mma, and his shoes, and see what they say about him. As he started the car, Mma Makutsi looked at his hands, but they told her nothing. Or at least they told her one thing, she thought, with an inward smile. He has all his fingers. He is not a butcher.

She directed him back to her house, where he dropped her, keeping the engine running. She was relieved that he had no expectations beyond that, and she thanked him politely as she alighted.