“That is a piece of nonsense,” said Mma Potokwane. “The place for a man who is recovering from an injury is with the lady who is almost married to him. That has always been so, and the world has not changed so much that it is any different now.” She looked at Mma Ramotswe, as one matron to another. “Do you not agree with me, Mma Ramotswe?”

Mma Ramotswe inclined her head to signify that she did not dissent. She agreed with Mma Potokwane on many things, but not all. Yet this was one area in which the agreement was perfect. Of course, this redoubtable woman, this defender of the interests of orphans—and fiancées—was right.

Mma Potokwane now looked out of the window, momentarily lost in thought. After a while she turned round and addressed Mma Makutsi. “Of course, it might be difficult for you to look after him all the time. You have your job, don’t you?”

Mma Makutsi sighed. “It would be hard, Mma, but I would like to try.”

“You live by yourself, don’t you, Mma?” Mma Potokwane asked.

“Yes, I do. But I always get back by five-thirty. So he would only be by himself from …”

“From seven in the morning until five-thirty in the evening,” said Mma Potokwane briskly. “That would not be very good for him, Mma. No, we must think of something else, and I believe that I have a solution.”

Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi exchanged glances.

“Yes,” said Mma Potokwane. “I have been thinking. There is a room behind my office at the orphan farm. It is a very comfortable room that we sometimes use when we have visitors. Mr. Radiphuti could stay there, and that means there would be many people to look after him during the day. We have a nurse, as you know, and there is a house mother nearby who is a very good cook. Then you could come every evening, Mma Makutsi, and you could stay in my place. We have two extra bedrooms in our house. So you could see him in the evenings and all weekends. He would be very well looked after, I think.”

For a moment or two Mma Makutsi did not move, but sat quite still, quite upright, as if transfixed. Then she removed her large glasses and polished them on the sleeve of her blouse. She put the glasses back on. “Oh, Mma …,” she began. She faltered. She had not received many kindnesses in her life, apart from those that she had had from Mma Ramotswe, and from Phuti, of course, and she was clearly finding it difficult to express what she felt. Mma Ramotswe could tell that, and she answered on her assistant’s behalf. “That would be wonderful, Mma,” she said. “I’m sure that Mma Makutsi would love that.”

There was a vigorous nodding from Mma Makutsi.