He sat quite still for a few seconds, and in the silence shyly she laid her cheek down against the back of his head. He moved then, and very gently clasped the trembling hands that bound him. But still he did not speak. "Say it's all right!" she urged softly. "Say you're not cross or--or anything!" "I'm not," said Burke very firmly. "And don't--don't ever think I want to play with you!" she pursued, a catch in her voice. "That's not me, partner. I'm sorry I'm so very unsatisfactory. But--anyhow that's not the reason." "I know the reason," said Burke quietly. "You don't," she rejoined instantly. "But never mind that now! You don't know anything whatever about 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?"