out me, partner. I can't say I
even know myself very intimately just now. I feel as if--as if
I've been blindfolded, and I can't see anything at all just yet.
So will you try to be patient with me? Will you--will you--go on
being a pal to me till the bandage comes off again? I--want a
pal--rather badly, partner."

Her pleading voice came muffled against him. She was clinging to
him very tightly. He could feel her fingers straining upon each
other. He stroked them gently.

"All right, little girl. All right," he said.

His tone must have reassured her, for she slipped round and knelt
beside him. "I'd like you to kiss me," she said, and lifted a pale
face and tear-bright eyes to his,

He took her head between his hands, and she saw that he was moved.
He bent in silence, and would have kissed her brow, but she raised
her lips instead. And shyly she returned his kiss.

"You're so--good to me," she said, in a whisper. "Thank you--so
much."

He said no word in answer. Mutely he let her go.

CHAPTER VII

THE GUEST

When Sylvia met her husband again, it was as if they had never been
parted or any cloud arisen to disturb the old frank comradeship.

They breakfasted at daybreak before riding out over the lands, and
their greeting was of the most commonplace description. Later, as
they rode together across the barren _veldt_, Burke told her a
little of his finding of Guy at Brennerstadt. He did not dwell
upon any details, but by much that he left unsaid Sylvia gathered
that the task had not been easy.

"He knows about--me?" she ventured presently, with hesitation.

"Yes," Burke said.

"Was he--surprised?" she asked.

"No. He knew long ago."

She asked no more. It had been difficult enough to ask so much.
And she would soon see Guy for herself. She would not admit even
to her own secret soul how greatly she was dreading that meeting
now that it was so near.

Perhaps Burke divined something of her feeling in the matter,
however, for at the end of a prolonged silence he said, "I thought
I would fetch him over to lunch,--unless you prefer to ride round
that way first."

"Oh, thank you," she said. "That is good of you."

As they reached the bungalow, she turned to him with a sudden
question. "Burke, you didn't--really--cut your chin so badly
shaving. Did you?"

She met the swift flash of his eyes without trepidation, refusing
to be intimidated by the obvious fact that the question w