“But was it really easy?” she questioned.

“Yes—­yes!  He was glad enough of the chance to give it back.  He only acted on impulse, ye see, and Kieff was pushing behind.  He’d never have done it but for Kieff.  Very likely he’ll pull round now and lead a respectable life,” said Kelly cheerily.  “He’s got the stuff in him, ye know, if he’d only let it grow.”

She smiled wanly at his optimism.  “Oh, do beg him to try!” she said.

“I’ll do me best,” promised Kelly.  “Anyway, don’t you worry!  It’s a sheer waste of time and never helped anybody yet.”

His cheerful attitude helped her, small as was her hope for Guy’s reformation.  Moreover, she knew that Kelly would keep his word.  He would certainly do his best for Guy.

He took his leave of her almost immediately, declaring it was the busiest day of his life, but assuring her that he would ride over to Blue Hill Farm to see her on the earliest opportunity with the greatest pleasure in the world.

She asked him somewhat nervously at parting if the death of Kieff were likely to hinder their return, but he laughed at the notion.  Why, of course not!  Burke hadn’t killed the man.  Such affairs as the one she had witnessed the night before were by no means unusual in Brennerstadt.  Besides, it was a clear case of opium poisoning, and everyone had known that he would die of it sooner or later.  It was the greatest mercy he had, gone, and so she wasn’t to worry about that!  No one would have any regrets for Kieff except the people he had ruined.

And so with wholesome words of reassurance he left her, and she went to prepare for her journey.

When Burke joined her again, they spoke only of casual things, avoiding all mention of Guy or Kieff by tacit consent.  He was very considerate for her, making every possible provision for her comfort, but his manner was aloof, almost forbidding.  There was no intimacy between them, no confidence, no comradeship.

They reached Ritzen in the late afternoon.  Burke suggested spending the night there, but she urged him to continue the journey.  The heat of the day was over; there was no reason for lingering.  So they found their horses, and started on the long ride home.

They rode side by side along the dusty track through a barren waste that made the eyes ache.  A heavy stillness hung over the land, making the loneliness seem more immense.  They scarcely spoke at all, and it came to Sylvia that they were stranger to each other now than they had been on that day at the very beginning of their acquaintance when he had first brought her to Blue Hill Farm.  She felt herself to be even more of an alien in this land of cruel desolation than when first she had set foot in it.  It was like a vast prison, she thought drearily, while the grim, unfriendly kopjes were the sentinels that guarded her, and the far blue mountains were a granite wall that none might pass.