" She went
suddenly to her, and put her arm around her.
Sylvia was trembling. "He didn't--understand," she whispered.
"Men never do," said Matilda very bitterly. "Love is beyond them.
They are only capable of passion. I learnt that lesson long ago.
It simplified life considerably, for I left off expecting anything
else."
Sylvia clung to her for a moment. "I think you are wrong," she
said. "I know you are wrong--somehow. But--I can't prove it to
you."
"You're so young," said Matilda compassionately.
"No, no, I am not." Sylvia tried to smile as she disengaged
herself. "I am getting older. I am learning. If--if only I felt
happy about Guy, I believe I should get on much better.
But--but--" the tears rose to her eyes in spite of her--"he haunts
me. I can't rest because of him. I dream about him. I feel torn
in two. For Burke--has given him up. But I--I can't."
"Of course you can't. You wouldn't." Matilda spoke with warmth.
"Don't let Burke deprive you of your friends! Plenty of men
imagine that when you have got a husband, you don't need anyone
else. They little know."
Sylvia's eyes went out across the _veldt_ to a faint, dim line of
blue beyond, and dwelt upon it wistfully. "Don't you think it
depends upon the husband?" she said.
CHAPTER VIII
OUT OF THE DEPTHS
That night the thunder rolled among the _kopjes_, and Sylvia lay in
her hut wide-awake and listening.
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