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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Benita, an African romance"

It was unkind of you to run away
and leave me like that, not honourable either. Indeed," he added with a
sudden outbreak of the panther ferocity, "had you alone been concerned,
Clifford, I tell you frankly that when we met again, I should have shot
you. Traitors deserve to be shot, don't they?"
"Please stop talking to my father like that," broke in Benita in a
stern voice, for her anger had overcome her fear. "Also it is I whom you
should blame."
"It is a pleasure to obey you," he answered bowing; "I will never
mention the subject any more. Nor do I blame you--who could?--not Jacob
Meyer. I quite understand that you found it very dull up here, and
ladies must be allowed their fancies. Also you have come back; so why
talk of the matter? But listen: on one point I have made up my mind;
for your own sake you shall not go away any more until we leave this
together. When I had finished carrying up the food I made sure of that.
If you go to look to-morrow morning you will find that no one can come
up that wall--and, what is more, no one can go down it. Moreover, that I
may be quite certain, in future I shall sleep near the stair myself."
Benita and her father stared at each other.
"The Molimo has a right to come," she said; "it is his sanctuary.


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