“Yes?” he said.

“I want—­to see Guy,” she ended, colouring very deeply.

“That’s out of the question,” said Burke, with quiet decision.  “You certainly won’t see him to-day.”

“Oh, but I must!  I really must!” she pleaded desperately.  “My knee isn’t very bad.  Have you—­have you told him I am here yet?”

“No,” said Burke.

“Then won’t you?  Please won’t you?” She was urging him almost feverishly now.  “I can’t rest till I have seen him—­indeed.  I can’t see my way clearly.  I can’t do anything until—­until I have seen him.”

Burke was frowning.  He looked almost savage, But she was not afraid of him.  She could think only of Guy at that moment and of her urgent need to see him.  It was all that mattered.  With nerves stretched and quivering, she waited for his answer.

It did not come immediately.  He was still holding her hand in one of his and feeling her pulse with the other.

“Listen!” he said at length.  “There is no need for all this wearing anxiety.  You must make up your mind to rest to-day, or you will be ill.  It won’t hurt you—­or him either—­to wait a few hours longer.”

“I shan’t be ill!” she assured him earnestly.  “I am never ill.  And I want to see him—­oh, so much.  I must see him.  He isn’t—­he isn’t worse?”

“No,” said Burke.

“Then why mustn’t I see him?” she urged.  “Why do you look like that?  Are you keeping back something?  Has—­has something happened that you don’t want me to know?  Ah, that is it!  I thought so!  Please tell me what it is!  It is far better to tell me.”

She drew her hand from his and sat up, steadily facing him.  She was breathing quickly, but she had subdued her agitation.  Her eyes met his unflinchingly.

He made an abrupt gesture—­as if compelled against his will.  “Well—­if you must have it!  He has gone.”

“Gone!” she repeated.  “What—­do you mean by that?”

He looked down into her whitening face, and his own grew sterner.  “Just what I say.  He cleared out yesterday morning early.  No one knows where he is.”

Sylvia’s hand unconsciously pressed her heart.  It was beating very violently.  She spoke with a great effort.  “Perhaps he has gone to Ritzen—­to look for me.”

“I think not,” said Burke drily.

His tone said more than his words.  She made a slight involuntary movement of shrinking.  But in a moment she spoke again with a pathetic little smile.

“You are very good to me.  But I mustn’t waste any more of your time.  Please don’t worry about me any more!  I can quite well bandage my knee myself.”

The grimness passed from his face.  “I shall have to see it to satisfy myself it is going on all right,” he said.  “But I needn’t bother you now.  I’ll send Mary Ann in with some tea.”

“Thank you,” said Sylvia.  She was gathering her scattered forces again after the blow; she spoke with measured firmness.  “Now please don’t think about me any more!  I am not ill—­or going to be.  You may look at my knee this evening—­if you are very anxious.  But not before.”