Gradually the turmoil subsided, but it left her weak, inert,
impotent. The impulse to pray came to her, but the prayer that
went up from her trembling heart was voiceless and wordless. She
had no means of expression in which to cloak her utter need. Only
the stark helplessness of her whole being cried dumbly for
deliverance.
A long time passed. The bungalow was silent and empty. She was
quite alone. She could hear the rising rush of the wind across the
_veldt_, and it sounded to her like a thing hunted and fleeing.
The sand of the desert whipped against the windows, and the gloom
increased. She was not naturally nervous, but a sense of fear
oppressed her. She had that fateful feeling, which sometimes comes
even in the sunshine, of something about to happen, of turning a
sharp corner in the road of life that must change the whole outlook
and trend of existence. She was afraid to look forward. For the
first time life had become terrible to her.
She roused herself to action at last and got up from the table.
Something fell on the ground as she did so. It was the key that
Burke had given into her care. She knew it for the key of his
strong-box in which he kept his money and papers. His journeys to
Brennerstadt were never frequent, and she knew that he usually kept
a considerable sum by him. The box was kept on the floor of the
cupboard in the wall of the room which Guy now occupied.
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