She turned sharply. "And leave Guy? Oh, no!"
Across the room she met his look, and she saw that he meant to have his way. "I wish it," he said.
She came slowly back to him. "Burke,—please! I can't do that.
It wouldn't be right. We can't leave Guy to the Kaffirs."
"Guy can look after himself," he reiterated. "You have done enough—too much—in that line already. He doesn't need you with him all daylong."
She shook her head. "I think he needs—someone. It wouldn't be right—I know it wouldn't be right to leave him quite alone. Besides, the Merstons won't want me. Why should I go?"
"Because I wish it," he said again. And, after a moment, as she stood silent, "Doesn't that count with you?"
She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone, "Of course your wishes count with me!" she said. "You know they do. But all the same—" She paused, searching for words.
"Guy comes first," he suggested, in the casual voice of one stating an acknowledged fact.
She felt the hot colour rise to her temples. "Oh, it isn't fair of you to say that!" she said.
"Isn't it true?" said Burke.