At last, “There was no need to say that to me, partner,” she said, in a choked voice.  “You don’t know me—­even as well as—­as you might—­if you—­if you took the trouble.”  She paused a moment, and put her hand to her throat.  Her eyes were full of tears.  “And now—­good night!” she said abruptly.

Her tone was a command.  He let her go, and in an instant the door had closed between them.  He stood motionless, waiting tensely for the shooting of the bolt; but it did not come.  He only heard instead a faint sound of smothered sobbing.

For a space he stood listening, his face drawn into deep lines, his hands hard clenched.  Then at length with a bitter gesture he flung himself down at the table.

He was still sitting motionless a quarter of an hour later, the food untouched before him, when the intervening door opened suddenly and silently, and like a swooping bird Sylvia came swiftly behind him and laid her two hands on his shoulders.

“Partner dear, I’ve been a big idiot.  Will you forgive me?” she said.

Her voice was tremulous.  It still held a sound of tears.  She tried to keep out of his sight as he turned in his chair.

“Don’t—­don’t stare at me!” she said, and slipped coaxing arms that trembled round his neck, locking her hands tightly in front of him.  “You hurt me a bit—­though I don’t think you meant to.  And now I’ve hurt you—­quite a lot.  I didn’t mean it either, partner.  So let’s cry quits!  I’ve forgiven you.  Will you try to forgive me?”

He sat quite still for a few seconds, and in the silence shyly she laid her cheek down against the back of his head.  He moved then, and very gently clasped the trembling hands that bound him.  But still he did not speak.

“Say it’s all right!” she urged softly.  “Say you’re not cross or—­or anything!”

“I’m not,” said Burke very firmly.

“And don’t—­don’t ever think I want to play with you!” she pursued, a catch in her voice.  “That’s not me, partner.  I’m sorry I’m so very unsatisfactory.  But—­anyhow that’s not the reason.”

“I know the reason,” said Burke quietly.

“You don’t,” she rejoined instantly.  “But never mind that now!  You don’t know anything whatever about me, partner.  I can’t say I even know myself very intimately just now.  I feel as if—­as if I’ve been blindfolded, and I can’t see anything at all just yet.  So will you try to be patient with me?  Will you—­will you—­go on being a pal to me till the bandage comes off again?  I—­want a pal—­rather badly, partner.”

Her pleading voice came muffled against him.  She was clinging to him very tightly.  He could feel her fingers straining upon each other.  He stroked them gently.

“All right, little girl.  All right,” he said.

His tone must have reassured her, for she slipped round and knelt beside him.  “I’d like you to kiss me,” she said, and lifted a pale face and tear-bright eyes to his,