Her ideas of him were a whirl of conflicting notions which utterly bewildered her.  Of one thing only did she become very swiftly and surely convinced, and that was that in failing her he had saved her from a catastrophe which must have eclipsed her whole life.  Whatever he was, whatever her feelings for him, she recognized that this man was not the mate her girlish dreams had so fondly pictured.  Probably she would have realized this in any case from the moment of their meeting, but circumstances might have compelled her to join her life to his.  And then------

Her look passed from him to Burke, and instinctively she breathed a sigh of thankfulness.  He had saved her from much already, and his rock-like strength stood perpetually between her and evil.  For the first time she was consciously glad that she had entrusted herself to him.

At the end of luncheon she realized with surprise that there had not been an awkward moment.  They went out on to the stoep to smoke cigarettes when it was over, and drink the coffee which she went to prepare.  It was when she was coming out with this that she first heard Guy’s cough—­a most terrible, rending sound that filled her with dismay.  Stepping out on to the stoep with her tray, she saw him bent over the back of a chair, convulsed with coughing, and stood still in alarm.  She had never before witnessed so painful a struggle.  It was as if he fought some demon whose clutch threatened to strangle him.

Burke came to her and took the tray from her hands.  “He’ll be better directly,” he said.  “It was the cigarette.”

With almost superhuman effort, Guy succeeded in forcing back the monster that seemed to be choking him, but for several minutes thereafter he hung over the chair with his face hidden, fighting for breath.

Burke motioned to Sylvia to sit down, but she would not.  She stood by Guy’s side, and at length as he grew calmer, laid a gentle hand upon his arm.

“Come and sit down, Guy.  Would you like some water?”

He shook his head.  “No—­no!  Give me—­that damned cigarette!”

“Don’t you be a fool!” said Burke, but he said it kindly.  “Sit down and be quiet for a bit!”

He came up behind Guy, and took him by the shoulders.  Sylvia saw with surprise the young man yield without demur, and suffer himself to be put into the chair where with an ashen face he lay for a space as if afraid to move.

Burke drew her aside.  “Don’t be scared!” he said, “It’s nothing new.  He’ll come round directly.”

Guy came round, sat slowly up, and reached a shaking hand towards the table on which lay his scarcely lighted cigarette.

“Oh, don’t!” Sylvia said quickly.  “See, I have just brought out some coffee.  Won’t you have some?”

Burke settled the matter by picking up the cigarette and tossing it away.

Guy gave him a queer look from eyes that seemed to bum like red coals, but he said nothing whatever.  He took the coffee Sylvia held out to him and drank it as if parched with thirst.