e knee. "Look here, old boy!
You must have a drink! Wait where you are while I fetch it!"

He was gone with the words, and they were left alone. Sylvia bent
over her suit-case, preparing to pick it up. A tumult of strange
emotion had swept over her. She was quivering all over. The
horses were stamping and chafing at their bits. He spoke to them
with a brief command and they stood still.

Then, very suddenly, he spoke to her. "Good-bye!" he said.

She lifted her face. He was smiling faintly, but his smile hurt
her inexplicably. It seemed to veil something that was tragic from
her eyes.

He bent towards her. "Good-bye!" he said again.

She moved swiftly, seized by an impulse she could not pause to
question. It was as if an unknown force compelled her. She
mounted the wheel, and offered him her lips in farewell.

For a moment his arms encircled her with a close and quivering
tension. He kissed her, and in that kiss for the first time she
felt the call of the spirit.

Then she was free, and blindly feeling for the ground. As she
reached it, she heard Merston returning, and without a backward
look she took up her suit-case and turned to enter. There was a
burning sensation as of tears in her throat, but she kept them from
her eyes by sheer determination, and Merston noticed nothing.

"Go straight in!" he said to her with cheery hospitality. "You'll
find my wife inside. She's cooking the supper. She'll be awfully
pleased to see you."

If this were indeed the case, Mrs. Merston certainly concealed any
excess of pleasure very effectually. She greeted her with a
perfunctory smile, and told her it was very good of her to come but
she would soon wish she hadn't. She was looking very worn and
tired, but she assured Sylvia somewhat sardonically that she was
not feeling any worse than usual. The heat and the drought had
been very trying, and her husband's accident had given her more to
do. She had fainted the evening before, and he had been frightened
for once and made a fuss--quite unnecessarily. She was quite
herself again, and she hoped Sylvia would not feel she had been
summoned on false pretences.

Sylvia assured her that she would not, and declared it would do her
good to make herself useful.

"Aren't you that at home?" said Mrs. Merston.

"Well, there are plenty of Kaffirs to do the work. I am not
absolutely necessary to Burke's comfort," Sylvia explained.

"I thought you were," Matil