Again half-unconsciously his eyes dwelt upon her vivid face. She
seemed to draw his look almost in spite of him. He set down the
basket by her side.

"Am I to unpack?" said Sylvia.

He dropped his eyes. "No. I will. It isn't much of a feed; only
enough to keep us from starvation. Tell me some more about
yourself! Tell me about your people--your home!"

"Have you never heard of me before?" she asked. "Did--Guy--never
speak of me?"

"I knew there was someone." Burke spoke rather unwillingly. "I
don't think he ever actually spoke of you to me. We're not
exactly--kindred spirits, he and I."

"You don't like him," said Sylvia.

"Nor he me," said Burke Ranger.

She looked at him with her candid eyes. "I don't think you are
very tolerant of weakness, are you?" she said gently.

"I don't know," he said non-committally. "Won't you tell me about
yourself?"

The subject of Guy was obviously distasteful to him, yet her whole
life during the past five years had been so closely linked to the