"I do." said Burke.
She sat up without further protest, and uncovered the injured knee for his inspection. "I really don't think anything of a tumble like that," she said, as he bent to examine it. But the next moment at his touch she flinched and caught her breath.
"That hurts, does it?" he said. "It's swelling up. I'm going to get some hot water to bathe it."
He stood up with the words and turned away. Sylvia leaned back again, feeling rather sick. Certainly the pain was intense.
The rain was still battering on the roof with a sound like the violent jingling together of tin cans, She listened to it with a dull wonder. The violence of it would have made a deeper impression upon her had she been suffering less. But she felt as one immersed in an evil dream which clogged all her senses save that of pain.
When Burke returned she was lying with closed eyes, striving hard to keep herself under control. The clatter of the rain had abated somewhat, and she heard him speak over his shoulder to someone behind him. She looked up and saw an old Kaffir woman carrying a basin.
"This is Mary Ann," said Burke, intercepting her glance of surprise. "A useful old dog except when there is any dope about! Hope you don't mind niggers."
"I shall get used to them," said Sylvia rather faintly.
"There's nothing formidable about this one," he said, "She can't help being hideous. She is quite tame."
Sylvia tried to smile. Certainly Mary Ann was hideous, but her lameness was equally obvious. She evidently stood in considerable awe of her master, obeying his slightest behest with clumsy solicitude and eyes that rolled unceasingly in his direction.