One of them, she felt sure, was Burke Ranger, though it very soon dawned upon her that they were conversing in Dutch.

She lay for awhile watching the orange light of evening gleaming through the creeper that entwined the comer of the _stoep_ outside her window.

Then, growing weary of inaction, she slipped from her bed and began to dress.
Her cabin-trunk had been placed in a corner of the bare room.

She found her key and opened it.
Guy's photograph--the photograph she had cherished for five years--lay on the top.

She saw it with a sudden, sharp pang, remembering how she had put it in at the last moment and smiled to think how soon she would behold him in the flesh.