The kindling of a lamp confirmed this first impression, but the presence of the man himself diverted her attention from her surroundings.  He turned from lighting the lamp to survey her.  She thought he looked somewhat stern.

“What about this knee of yours?” he said.  “Is it badly damaged?”

“Oh, not badly,” she answered.  “I’m sure not badly.  What a lot of trouble I am giving you!  I am so sorry.”

“You needn’t be sorry on that account,” he said.  “I blame myself alone.  Do you mind letting me, see it?  I am used to giving first-aid.”

“Oh, I don’t think that is necessary,” said Sylvia.  “I—­can quite easily doctor myself.”

“I thought we were to be comrades,” he observed bluntly.

She coloured and faintly laughed, “You can see it if you particularly want to.”

“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.

Burke kept her in the room while he bathed the injury.  He was very gentle, and Sylvia was soon conscious of relief.  When at length he applied a pad soaked in ointment and proceeded to bandage with a dexterity that left nothing to be desired, she told him with a smile that he was as good as a professional.

“One has to learn a little of this sort of thing,” he said.  “How does it feel now?”