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?"
She met the swift flash of his eyes without trepidation, refusing to be intimidated by the obvious fact that the question was unwelcome.
"Did you?" she repeated with insistence. He uttered a brief laugh.
"All right, I didn't. And that's all there is to it."
"Thank you, partner," she returned with spirit, and changed the subject. But her heart had given a little throb of dismay within her. Full well she knew the reason of his reticence.
They parted before the stoep, he leading her animal away, she going within to attend to the many duties of her household.
She filled her thoughts with these resolutely during the morning, but in spite of this it was the longest morning she had ever known.
She was at length restlessly superintending the laying of lunch when Joe hurried in with the news that a baas was waiting on the stoep round the corner to see her. The news startled her. She had heard no sounds of arrival, nor had Burke returned. For a few moments she was conscious of a longing to escape that was almost beyond her, control, then with a sharp effort she commanded herself and went out.