In the hotel lobby Sean spoke to the receptionist.

Where can we find the best food in this town? he asked. Two blocks

down, sir, the Golden Guinea. You can't miss it. It sounds like a gin

palace, Sean was dubious. I assure you, sir, that you'll have no

complaint when you get there. Everyone goes there. Mr Rhodes dines

there when he's in town, Mr Barnato, Mr Hradsky --Dick Turpin, Cesare

Borgla, Benedict Arnold, Sean continued for him. All right, you have

convinced me. I'll take a chance on having my throat cut. Sean went

out through the front entrance with Katrina on his arm. The splendour

of the Golden Guinea subdued even Sean a little. A waiter with a

uniform like a majorgeneral's led them down a marble staircase, across

the wide meadow of carpet between the group of elegant men and women to

a table that even in the soft light dazzled with its bright silver and

snowy linen. Chandeliers of crystal hung from the vaulted ceiling, the

band was good, and the air was rich with the fragrance of perfume and

expensive cigars.

Katrina stared helplessly at the menu until Sean came to her rescue and

ordered the meat in a French accent that impressed her but not the

waiter. The wine came and with it Sean's high spirits returned. Katrina

sat quietly opposite him and listened. She tried to think of something

witty to answer him with; in their wagon or alone in the veld they could

talk for hours at a time but here she was dumb. Shall we dance? Sean

leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. She shook her head.

Sean, I couldn't. Not with all these people watching.

I'd only make a fool of myself. Come on, I'll show you how . . . It's

easy. No, I couldn't, truly I couldn't.

And to himself Sean had to admit that the dance floor of the Golden

Guinea on a Saturday night was not the best place for a waltz lesson.

The waiter brought the food, great steaming dishes of it. Sean

addressed himself to it and the one-sided conversation wilted. Katrina

watched him, picking at the too rich food herself, acutely conscious of

the laughter and voices around them, feeling out of place and

desperately miserable. Come on, Katrina, Sean smiled at her. You've

hardly touched your glass. Be a devil and get a little of that in you

to warm you up. Obediently she sipped the champagne. She didn't like

the taste. Sean finished the last of his crayfish thermidor and leaning

back in his chair glowing with wine and good food said, Man . . . I

only pray the chef can keep the rest of the meal up to that standard. He

belched softly behind his fingers and ran his eyes contentedly round the

room. Duff used to say that a well-cooked crayfish was proof that, Sean

stopped abruptly. He was staring at the head of the marble staircase, a

party of three had appeared there.

Two men in evening dress hovering attentively on each side of a woman.

The woman was Candy Rautenbach.

Candy with her blonde hair piled on top of her head.

Candy with diamonds in her ears and at her throat, her bosom overflowing

her gown as white as the frothy head on a beer tankard. Candy with

bright blue eyes above a red mouth, Candy poised and lovely. Laughing,

she glanced towards him and her eyes met his across the room. She

stared in open disbelief, the laughter frozen on her lips, then suddenly

her poise was gone and she was running down the stairs towards him,

holding her skirts up to her knees, her escorts cantering after her in

alarm, waiters scattering out of her path and every head in the room

turning to watch her. Sean pushed back his chair, stood up to meet her

and Candy reached him and jumped up to throw her arms around his neck.

There was a long incoherent exchange of greetings and at last Sean

prised her loose from his neck and turned her to face Katrina.

Candy was flushed and panting with excitement; with every breath her

bosom threatened to spring out of her bodice, and she was still holding

on to Sean's arm. Candy, I want you to meet my wife, Katrina. My dear,

this is Candy Rautenbach. How do you do. Katrina smiled uncertainly

and Candy said the wrong thing. Sean, you're joking! You married?

Katrina's smile faded. Candy noticed the change and went on quickly,

But I must applaud your choice. I am so pleased to meet you, Katrina.

We must get together sometime and I'll tell you all about Sean's

terrible past. Candy was still holding Sean's arm and Katrina was

watching her hand, the long tapered fingers against the dark cloth of

Sean's suit. Sean saw the direction of Katrina's eyes and tried

tactfully to disengage himself but Candy held on. Sean, these are my

two current beaux. They were standing to heel behind her like

welltrained gundogs. They are both so nice I can't make up my mind

about them. Harry Lategaan and Derek Goodman. Boys, this is Sean

Courtney. You've heard lots about him They shook hands all round.

Do you mind if we join you? asked Derek Goodman. I'd be upset if you

didn't! said Sean. The men spread out to find chairs while Candy and

Katrina studied each other. Is this your first visit to Johannesburg

Mrs Courtney? Candy smiled sweetly. I wonder where Sean found her,

she's thin as a stick and that complexion! that accent! he could have

done better for himself, he could have had his pick.

Yes, we won't be here very long though. She's a harlot.

She must be, her breasts half-naked and the paint on her face and they

way she touches Sean. She must have been his mistress. if she touches

him again I'll, I'll kill her.

Sean came back to the table carrying a chair and set it down for Candy.

Candy's one of my old friends, my dear, I'm sure you two will like each

otherI'm sure we will, said Candy but Katrina didn't answer and Candy

turned back to him. Sean, how wonderful it is to see you again. You

look so well . . . as sunburnt and handsome as the first time I met

you. Do you remember that day you and Duff came to eat at the Hotel? A

shadow fell across Sean's face at the mention of Duff's name. Yes, I

remember. He looked round and snapped his fingers for the waiter. Let's

have some more champagne. I'll get it, Candy's escorts cut in

simultaneously and then started wrangling good-naturedly as to whose

turn it was.

Is Duff with you tonight, Sean? Candy asked.

, candy, didn't Derek get the drinks last time? It's my turn now. Harry

sought her support. Candy ignored them and looked at Sean for a reply

but he turned and went round the table to the seat beside Katrina.

I say, old girl, can I have the first dance? asked Derek. I'll spin

you for it Derek, winner pays but getsfirst dance Harry suggested.

You're on. Sean, I said is Duff here tonight? I Candy looked at him

across the table, No, he's not. Listen, you two, how about letting me

in on this. Sean avoided her eyes and joined in the haggle with Harry

and Derek. Candy bit her lip, she wanted to press Sean further. She

wanted to know about Duff, then suddenly she turned on her smile again.

She wasn't going to plead with him.

What is this? She tapped Harry's shoulder with her fan. Am I going to

be the prize in a game of chance!

Derek will pay for the wine and Sean gets first dance. I say old girl,

that's a bit rough, you know. But Candy was already standing up. Come

on, Sean, let's see if you can still tread a stately tneasure.

Sean glanced at Katrina. You don't mind, do you. . .

just one dance!

Katrina shook her head.