She laid a trembling hand against his shoulder. "Guy, please! You mustn't. I had to let you in. But not—not for this."
He uttered a low laugh that seemed to hold a note of triumph. But he let her go.
"Of course you had to let me in! Were you asleep? Did I frighten you?"
"You startled me just at first. I think the thunder had set me on edge, for I wasn't asleep. It's such a—savage sort of night, isn't it?"
Sylvia glanced forth again over the low veldt where the flickering lightning leaped from cloud to cloud.
"Not so bad," said Guy. "It will serve our turn all right. Do you know what I have come for?"
She looked back at him quickly. There was no mistaking the exultation in his low voice. It amazed her, and again she was stabbed by that sense of insecurity.
"I thought you had come to—explain things," she made answer. "And to say—good-bye."
"To say—what?" He took her by the shoulders; his dark eyes flashed a laughing challenge into hers. "You're not in earnest!" he said.
She backed away from him. "But I am, Guy. I am." Her voice sounded strained even to herself, for she was strangely discomfited by his attitude. She had expected a broken man kneeling at her feet in an agony of contrition. His overweening confidence confounded her. "Have you no sense of right and wrong left?" she said.