"One doesn't say good-bye in Africa, Lady Diana, only 'So long'--meaning that we may meet again tomorrow, perhaps even today."
He had not even looked after them as they left the ship. Yet April, because she loved him, was aware of his astonishment at this strange and sudden intimacy of hers with Bellew. Still, what was the use of caring? There were worse hurts in store for him, if, indeed, they met again as he predicted. She bit on the bullet and ignored the pain at her heart. Bellew did not waste any small talk on her; that was one comfort. He seemed to be more concerned about his luggage than about her, shouting out to the coloured men to be careful and to remove nothing from the van without his direction. At the Customs House, in fact, all his stuff was left assiduously alone. April's was opened and gone through rapidly by the officials; but the production of his papers and credentials as an attaché to the Governor of Zambeke, or some such outlandish place, gave Bellew instant immunity, and no single article of his belongings was unlocked. Within a few moments they were again _en route_ for their hotel.
Their way took them by the main thoroughfare of the town, and April was astonished at the numbers of people flocking on the pavements, filling trams and rickshaws, drinking tea on the overhanging balconies and restaurants. The air was sunny, yet with the fresh bite of the sea in it, and everyone seemed gay and careless. The whole of one side of the wide street was lined by Malays and natives offering flowers for sale. In front of the Bank a sort of floral bazaar was established, the bright head "dookies," silver bangles, and glowing dark eyes of the vendors making a brave show above the massed glory of colour in their baskets. Huge bunches of pink proteas, spiked lilies of every hue, bales of heather and waxen white chinckerichees filled the air with heavy perfume. The sellers came pressing to the passing carriages, soliciting custom in the soft clipped speech of the Cape native. Bellew, for all he was so distrait, had the graceful inspiration to stop and take on a load of colour and perfume, and April for a moment lost count of her troubles in sheer joy of the senses.