He wheeled round abruptly and stood looking at her. For a few seconds he said nothing whatever, then as with a startled sense of uncertainty she turned towards him he spoke. "Schafen? Yes, he reported--several things. The dam over by Ritter Spruit is dried up for one thing. The animals will all have to driven down here. Then there have been several bad _veldt_-fires over to the north. It isn't only sand that's coming along. It's cinders too. We've got to take steps to protect the fodder, or we're done. It's just the way of this country. A single night may bring ruin." He spoke with such unwonted bitterness that Sylvia was aroused out of her own depression. She had never known him take so pessimistic a view before. With an impulsiveness that was warm and very womanly, she left her task and went to him. "Oh, Burke!" she said. "But the worst doesn't happen, does it? Anyway not often!" He made an odd sound that was like a laugh choked at birth. "Not often," he agreed. And then abruptly, straightening himself, "Suppose it did,--what then?" "What then?" She looked at him for a moment, still feeling curiously unsure of her ground. "Well, we'd weather it somehow, partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a little quivering smile. He made no movement to take her hand. Perhaps he had already heard what a few seconds later reached her own ears,--the sound of Guy's feet upon the _stoep_ outside the window. But during those seconds his eyes dwelt upon her, holding her own with a fixed intentness that somehow made her feel cold. It was an unspeakable relief to her when he turned them from her, as it were setting her free. Guy came in with something of his old free swing, and closed the window behind him. "Better to stew than to eat sand," he remarked. "I've just heard from one of the Kaffirs that Piet Vreiboom's land is on fire." "What?" said Burke sharply. "It's all right at present," said Guy. "We can bear it with equanimity. The wind is the other way." "The wind may change," said Burke. "That wouldn't be like your luck," remarked Guy, as he seated himself. They partook of the meal almost in silence. To Sylvia the very air was laden with foreboding. Everything they ate was finely powered with sand, but she alone was apparently aware of the fact. The heat inside the bungalow was intense. Outside a fierce wind had begun to blow, and the sky was dark. At the end of a very few minutes Burke arose. Guy sprang instantly to his feet. "Are you off? I'm coming!" "No--no," Burke said shortly. "Stay where you are!" "I tell you I'm coming," said Guy, pushing aside his chair. Burke, already ac the door, paused and looked at him. "Better not," he said. "You're not up to it--and this infernal sand----" "Damn the sand!" said Guy, with vehemence. "I'm coming!" He reached Burke with the words. His hand sought the door. Burke swallowed the rest of his remonstrance.