"Ah!" Sylvia said. He had made her understand at last. She stood for a space staring at him, then with a groping movement she found and grasped the back of a chair. "Why—why did you lie to me?" she said.
"I did it for your sake," he answered briefly. "You couldn't have faced it then."
"I see," she said, and paused to collect herself. "And does he—does he realize that I am here?" she asked painfully. "Doesn't he—want to see me?"
"Just now," said Ranger grimly, "he is too busy thinking about his own troubles to worry about anyone else's. He does know you are coming. He was raving about it two nights ago. Then came your wire from Cape Town. That was what brought me here to meet you."
"I see," she said again. "You—you have been very good. It would have been dreadful if—if I had been stranded here alone."
"I'd have stopped you at Cape Town if I could," he said.
"No, you wouldn't have stopped me," she answered, with a drear little smile. "I should have had to come on and see Guy in any case. I shall have to see him now. Where is he?"
Ranger stood close to her. He bent slightly, looking into her eyes. "You have understood me?" he questioned.
She looked straight back at him; it was no moment for shrinking avoidance. "Yes," she said,
"And you believe me?" he proceeded.
Her red-brown eyes widened a little. "But of course I believe you."
"And, still you want to see him?" said Burke Ranger.
"I must see him," she answered quietly. "You must realize that.
You would do the same in my place."
"If I did," said Ranger, dropping his voice, "it would be to tell him to go to hell!" Then, as involuntarily she drew back: "No, I shouldn't put it like that to you, I know. But what's the point of your seeing him? It will only make things worse for you."
"I must see him," she said firmly. "Please tell me where he is!"
He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. "He is in his own shanty on my farm," he said then. "Blue Hill Farm it is called. You can't go to him there. It's a twenty-mile ride from here."
"Can't I get a horse to take me?" she asked.
"I could take you in my cart," said Burke slowly.
"And will you?" Sylvia said.
"I suppose you will go in any case," he said.
"I must go," she answered steadily.
"I don't see why," he said. "It's a degrading business. It won't do any good."
Her face quivered. She controlled it swiftly. "Will you take me?" she said.
He frowned. "What is going to happen afterwards? Have you thought of that?"
She shook her head. "No. I can't see the future at all. I only know that I must see Guy, and I can't go back to England."
"Why not?" he said.
She pressed a hand to her throat as if she found speaking a difficulty. "I have no place there. My father has married again. I must earn my living here somehow."
He moved abruptly. "You!" he said again. She tried to smile. "You seem to think I am very helpless. I assure you I am not. I have managed my father's house for five years. I am quite willing to learn anything, and I am very strong."
"You are very brave," he said, almost as if he spoke in spite of himself. "But—you've got to be sensible too. You won't marry him?"
She hesitated. "I must see him. I must judge for myself."
He nodded, still frowning. "Very well—if you must. But you won't marry him as a way out of your difficulties? You've got to promise me that."
"Why?" she said.
He answered her with that sudden force which before had startled her. "Because I can't stand by and see purity joined to corruption. Some women will sacrifice anything for sentiment. You wouldn't do anything so damn' foolish as that."
"No," said Sylvia.
"Then it's a promise?" he said.
She held out her hand to him with her brave little smile. "I promise you I won't do anything damn' foolish for the sake of—sentiment. Will that do?"
He gripped her hand for a moment. "Yes. I think it will," he said.
"And thank you for being so good to me," she added.
He dropped her hand, and turned away. "As to that—I please myself," he said briefly. "Be ready to start in an hour from now!"
CHAPTER VIII
THE COMRADE
That twenty-mile ride in Burke Ranger's high cart, with a pair of skittish young horses pulling at the reins, was an experience never to be eradicated from Sylvia's memory. They followed a course across the veldt that began as a road and after a mile or two deteriorated into a mere rough track. Up and down many slopes they travelled, but the far hills never seemed to draw any nearer. Here and there they passed kopjes stacked against the blazing blue of the sky. They held a weird attraction for her. They were like the stark bones of the earth pushing up through the coarse desert grasses. Their rugged strength and their isolation made her marvel. The veldt was swept by a burning wind. The clouds of the night before had left no rain behind.
Sylvia would have liked to ask many things of her companion but his attention was completely absorbed by the animals he drove. Also talking was wellnigh impossible during that wild progress, for though the horses presently sobered down somewhat, the roughness of the way was such that most of the time her thoughts were concentrated upon maintaining her seat. She clung to her perch with both hands, and mutely admired Burke Ranger's firm control and deftness. He seemed to know by instinct when to expect any sudden strain.
The heat of the sun was intense, notwithstanding the shelter afforded by the hood of the cart. The air seemed to quiver above the burning earth. She felt after a time as if her eyes could endure the glare no longer. The rapid, bumping progress faded into a sort of fitful unpleasant dream through which the only actual vivid consciousness that remained to her centred in the man beside her. She never lost sight of his presence. It dominated all besides, though he drove almost entirely in silence and never seemed to look her way.
At the end of what appeared an interminable stretch of time during which all her sensibilities had gradually merged into one vast discomfort, Burke spoke at her side.
"We've got a bit of tough going before us. Hang on tight! We'll have a rest after it."
She opened her eyes and saw before her a steep slant between massive stones, leading down to a wide channel of running water. On the further side a similar steep ascent led up again.
"Ritter Spruit," said Ranger. "It's not deep enough to be dangerous. Hold on! We shall soon be through."
He spoke to the horses and they gathered themselves as if for a race. They thundered down the incline and were dashing through the stony watercourse almost before Sylvia, clinging dazed to her seat, realized