"You like to be--a farmer's wife?" questioned Piet, still freely
staring.
She resented this question also, but she had to respond to it. "It
is what I came out for," she said.
"You do not look like a farmer's wife," said Piet.
Sylvia stiffened.
"Give him a little rope!" said Burke. "He doesn't know much. Sit
down! I'll get him on the move directly."
She sat down not very willingly, and he resumed his talk with
Vreiboom in Dutch, lounging against the wall. Sylvia sat quite
silent, her eyes upon the glowing sky and the far-away hills. In
the foreground was a _kopje_ shaped like a sugar-loaf. She wished
herself upon its summit which was bathed in the sunset light.
Once or twice she was moved to glance up at the brown face of the
man who leaned between herself and the objectionable visitor. His
attitude was one of complete ease, and yet something told her that
he desired Piet's departure quite as sincerely as she did.
He must have given a fairly broad hint at last, she decided; for
Piet moved somewhat abruptly and knocked out the ashes of his pipe
on the floor with a noisy energy that made her start. Then he got
up and addressed her in his own language. She did not understand
in the least what he said, but she gave him a distant smile
realizing that he was taking leave of her. She was somewhat
surprised to see Burke take him unceremoniously by the shoulder as
he stood before her and march him off the stoep.
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