And then in the silence that followed she knew that he fell asleep.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up.  Burke was standing by her side.

“You can leave him now,” he said.  “He won’t wake.”

He spoke very quietly, but she thought his face was stern.  A faint throb of misgiving went through her.  She slipped her hand free and rose.

She saw that Kieff had already gone, and for a moment she hesitated.  But Burke took her steadily by the arm, and led her from the room.

“He won’t wake,” he reiterated.  “You must have something to eat,”

They entered the sitting-room, and she saw with relief that Kieff was not there either.  The table was spread for luncheon, and Burke led her to it.

“Sit down!” he said.  “Never mind about Kieff!  He can look after himself.”

She sat down in silence.  Somehow she felt out of touch with Burke at that moment.  Her long vigil beside Guy seemed in some inexplicable fashion to have cut her off from him.  Or was it those strange words that Kieff had uttered and which even yet were running in her brain?  Whatever it was, it prevented all intimacy between them.  They might have been chance-met strangers sitting at the same board.  He waited upon her as if he were thinking of other things.

Her own thoughts were with Guy alone.  She ate mechanically, half unconsciously watching the door, her ears strained to catch any sound.

“He will probably sleep for hours,” Burke said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him with a start.  She had almost forgotten his presence.  She met his eyes and felt for a few seconds oddly disconcerted.  It was with an effort she spoke in answer.

“I hope he will.  That suffering is so terrible.”

“It’s bad enough,” said Burke.  “But the morphia habit is worse.  That’s damnable.”

She drew a sharp breath.  She felt almost as if he had struck her over the heart.  “Oh, but surely—­” she said—­“surely—­having it just once—­like that——­”

“Do you think he is the sort of man to be satisfied with just once of anything?” said Burke.

The question did not demand an answer, she made none.  With an effort she controlled her distress and changed the subject.

“How long will Dr. Kieff stay?”

Burke’s eyes were upon her again.  She wished he would not look at her so intently.  “He will probably see him through,” he said.  “How long that will take it is impossible to say.  Not long, I hope.”

“You don’t like him?” she ventured.

“Personally,” said Burke, “I detest him.  He is not out here in his professional capacity.  In fact I have a notion that he was kicked out of that some years ago.  But that doesn’t prevent him being a very clever surgeon.  He likes a job of this kind.”

Sylvia caught at the words.  “Then he ought to succeed,” she said.  “Surely he will succeed!”