‘I suppose we could put you up for the night,’ she volunteered.

There were words he should say at a moment like this, words that had been said by many before him, words that he himself had said innumerable times, words that would not come to him now. The words that came to him rather readily were these: ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’

Now, of all things, why would he go and say that?

She looked at him blankly as though she had not recently read those very words herself. Spokes was desperately trying to formulate a single sentence in which he both explained that he had seen her reading the book and that it was his intention to be an English teacher when the salesman seemingly saved him by saying, ‘What an interesting thing to say in place of a simple “thank you”.’ There was obvious mirth in his voice as he continued: ‘So are you a man in possession of a good fortune?’

‘No, no … not at all,’ Spokes stuttered honestly. Things were going splendidly indeed.

‘And yet you are in want of a wife?’ the salesman said, not allowing Spokes to suffer his mortification in peace.

‘No …’ Spokes began to say, but then realised that he would be lying outright. He made the mistake of looking at her. Was he imagining it, or was that a dimple in her cheek? The hurricane lamp provided poor light, but he was almost certain he could see a dimple. She was laughing at him and his blundering ways, and why wouldn’t she?

Luckily for him, luckily for all of them, for God only knew what fresh calamity would befall them if he was allowed to open his mouth again, she pointed into the distance and said, ‘Finally!’

Spokes turned around to see two lights suspended in darkness, travelling towards them. It was only after they got closer that he heard the hooves of horses. So ‘he’ was not only a very important man, ‘he’ was a very important man who owned a carriage, like a European man.

The carriage came to a stop in a cloud of dust that in time settled to reveal a man with snow-white hair and the wisest eyes that Spokes had ever seen. The man seemed much younger than his white hair denoted.

‘Loveness!’ the man shouted as he alighted from the carriage.

Loveness – what a fitting name for such a lovely woman. What other name could she have possibly been given?

‘You should have named me Dojiwe,’ Loveness said. ‘You certainly treat me like something you picked up along the way.’

Father and daughter, Spokes happily deduced, feeling an undue hope.

‘Sobantu seems to have been friendly with Mthembu’s wife,’ the man with the wise eyes said as he and the salesman loaded her trunk into the carriage.

‘Again,’ the lovely Loveness said.