He watched the broad figure till it was out of sight, then got up and went out into the hot sunshine, intent upon another quest. Burke went on steadily up the stairs till he reached the top story where he met a servant carrying a breakfast-tray with the meal practically untouched upon it. With a brief word Burke took the tray himself, and went on with the same air of absolute purpose to the door at the end of the passage. Here, just for a moment he paused, standing in semi-darkness, listening. Then he knocked. Sylvia's voice answered him, and he entered. She was dressed and standing by the window. "Oh, please, Burke!" she said quickly, at sight of what he carried. "I can't eat anything more." He set down the tray and looked at her. "Why did you get up?" he said. Her face was flushed. There was unrest in every line of her. "I had to get up," she said feverishly. "I can't rest here. It is so noisy. I want to get out of this horrible place. I can't breathe here. Besides--besides----" "Sit down!" said Burke. "Oh, don't make me eat anything!" she pleaded. "I really can't. I am sorry, but really----" "Sit down!" he said again, and laid a steady hand upon her. She yielded with obvious reluctance, avoiding his eyes. "I am quite all right," she said. "Don't bully me, partner!" Her voice quivered suddenly, and she put her hand to her throat. Burke was pouring milk into a cap. She watched him, fighting with herself. "Now," he said, "you can drink this anyway. It's what you're needing." He gave her the cup, and she took it from him without a word. He turned away, and stood at the window, waiting. At the end of a full minute, he spoke. "Has it gone?" "Yes," she said. He turned back and looked at her. She met his eyes with an effort. "I am quite all right," she said again. "Ready to start back?" he said. She leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped very tightly in front of her. "To-day?" she said in a low voice. "I thought you wanted to get away," said Burke. "Yes--yes, I do." Her eyes suddenly fell before his. "I do," she said again. "But--but--I've got--something--to ask of you--first." "Well?" said Burke. Her breath came quickly; her fingers were straining against each other. "I--don't quite know--how to say it," she said. Burke stood quite motionless, looking down at her. "Must it be said?" he asked. "Yes." She sat for a moment or two, mustering her strength. Then, with an abrupt effort, she got up and faced him. "Burke, I think I have a right to your trust," she said. He looked straight back at her with piercing, relentless eyes. "If we are going to talk of rights," he said, "I might claim a right to your confidence." She drew back a little, involuntarily, but the next moment, quickly, she went to him and clasped his arm between her hands. "Please be generous, partner!" she said. "We won't talk of rights, either of us. You--are not--angry with me now, are you?"