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The racist snub prompted his fascination to see more, to venture past the threshold of the stoep.

As I stood there on the stoep, however, my mind was in utter confusion.

Men were standing about the regimental headquarters, some were scurrying, many were sitting upon the stoep facing the town.

He despatched the coloured boy, who stood grinning on the stoep, to assist with the baggage, and put a hand in Esmé’s arm and drew her into the house.

Trooper Gressex, who was leaning against the stoep, holding his own horse and Parton’s, saluted as his officer came forth, and answered the formal “Good morning, Gressex,” with an equally formal “Good morning, sir.”