Sylvia’s laugh brought a smile to his face.  It was a very infectious laugh.  Though she sobered almost instantly, it left a ripple of mirth behind on the surface of their conversation.  He carried the tray away again when the meal was over, firmly refusing her offer to wash up.

“Mary Ann can do it in the morning,” he said.

“Where is she now?” asked Sylvia.

He sat down beside her, and took out his pipe.  “They are over in their own huts.  They don’t sleep in the house.”

“Does no one sleep in the house?” she asked quickly.

“I do,” said Burke.

A sudden silence fell.  The dusk had deepened into a starlit darkness, but there was a white glow behind the hills that seemed to wax with every instant that passed.  Very soon the whole veldt would be flooded with moonlight.

In a very small voice Sylvia spoke at length.

“Mr. Ranger!”

It was the first time she had addressed him by name.  He turned directly towards her.  “Call me Burke!” he said.

It was almost a command.  She faced him as directly as he faced her.  “Burke—­if you wish it!” she said.  “I want to talk things over with you, to thank you for your very great goodness to me, and—­and to make plans for the future.”

“One moment!” he said.  “You have given up all thought of marrying Guy?”

She hesitated.  “I suppose so,” she said slowly.

“Don’t you know your own mind?” he said.

Still she hesitated.  “If—­if he should come back——­”

“He will come back,” said Burke.

She started.  “He will?”

“Yes, he will.”  His voice held grim confidence, and somehow it sounded merciless also to her ears.  “He’ll turn up again some day.  He always does.  I’m about the only man in South Africa who wouldn’t kick him out within six months.  He knows that.  That’s why he’ll come back.”

“You are—­good to him,” said Sylvia, her voice very low.

“No, I’m not; not specially.  He knows what I think of him anyhow.”  Burke spoke slowly.  “I’ve done what I could for him, but he’s one of my failures.  You’ve got to grasp the fact that he’s a rotter.  Have you grasped that yet?”

“I’m beginning to,” Sylvia said, under her breath.

“Then you can’t—­possibly—­many him,” said Burke.

She lowered her eyes before the keenness of his look.  She wished the light in the east were not growing so rapidly.

“The question is, What am I going to do?” she said.

Burke was silent for a moment.  Then with a slight gesture that might have denoted embarrassment he said, “You don’t want to stay here, I suppose?”

She looked up again quickly.  “Here—­on this farm, do you mean?”

“Yes.”  He spoke brusquely, but there was a certain eagerness in his attitude as he leaned towards her.

A throb of gratitude went through her.  She put out her hand to him very winningly.  “What a pity I’m not a boy!” she said, genuine regret in her voice.