"What is it, partner?" he said gently. "You've nothing to be afraid of."
There was no reproach in his voice, yet something within reproached her instantly. She put on slippers and dressing-gown and went back to him.
"I've had a stupid dream," she said. "I expect I heard your horse outside. So—you have come back alone!"
"He has gone back to his own cabin," Burke said.
"Burke!" She looked at him with startled, reproachful eyes. Her hair lay in a fiery cloud about her shoulders, and fire burned in her gaze as she faced him.
He made a curious gesture as if he restrained some urging impulse, not speaking for a moment. When his voice came again it sounded cold, with an odd note of defiance. "I've done my best."
She still looked at him searchingly. "Why wouldn't he come here?" she said.
He turned from her with a movement that almost seemed to indicate impatience "He preferred not to. There isn't much accommodation here. Besides, he can very well fend for himself. He's used to it."
"I have been preparing for him all day," Sylvia said. She looked at him anxiously, struck by something unusual in his pose, and noted for the first time a wide strip of plaster on one side of his chin. "Is all well?" she questioned. "How have you hurt your face?"
He did not look at her. "Yes, all's well," he said. "I cut myself—shaving. You go back to bed! I'm going to refresh before I turn in."