“Sorry, Guy, but you will have to make a pallet on the floor,” Charlie said to Priscilla. “No one can catch you sleeping in the bed. That has been reserved for the commander.”
“I understand,” she murmured. Although she was concentrating on fitting in with the military mode, part of her yearned to be back in the bush with all those exotic four-footed animals. Too, she was only vaguely aware that she was now very near Pretoria, the capital of one of the most notoriously racist territories in the world. And although Charlie had taught her how to use a g*n, he had not given her any lessons in being a black American woman in a racist country, the need for which would soon come to the fore. But she had acquired the knack for keeping her mouth shut and talking as little as possible. She could ne
