Painted Pearls
‘‘That, I fear,’’ he said in a curious, melodious tone, ‘‘is a matter which I am not altogether ready to unveil.
There was an almighty crash from the back of the house, starting Miriam from her seat. She was suddenly quite glad for her own lack of tea, as the riotous din of broken glass on concrete carried systematically on. ‘‘Dear Lord! Please, you must pardon us, Mr Xakatha!’’ she apologised swiftly, rising hastily to peer out into the passage. Not a soul was to be seen, nor was the source of the commotion evident. ‘‘Boniswa!’’ she shrieked, all thought of propriety flown from her head, her nerves frayed entirely.
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