not understand what was being said, but the tone of the voice was enough
for him. He did not know whether Chaldea was cheating the Gentile, or
cheating him; but he gathered that in either case, she had been
repulsed. The girl knew that also, when her ardent eyes swept across
Lambert's white face, and she burst into tears of anger and
disappointment.

"Oh, rye, I give you all, and you take nothing," she wailed tearfully.

"I don't want anything. You silly girl, do you think that for one moment
I was ever in love with you?"

"I--I--want you--to--to--love me," sobbed Chaldea, grovelling on the
grass.

"Then you want an impossibility," and to Lambert's mind's eye there
appeared the vision of a calm and beautiful face, far removed in its
pure looks from the flushed beauty of the fiery gypsy. To gain control
of himself, he took out a cigar and lighted it. But his hand trembled.
"You little fool," he muttered, and sauntered, purposely, slowly toward
the cottage.

Chaldea gathered herself up with the spring of a tigress, and in a
moment was at his elbow with her face black with rage. Her tears had
vanished and with them went her softer mood. "You--you reject me," she
said in grating tones, and shaking from head to foot as she gripped his
shoulder.

"Take away your hand," commanded Lambert sharply, and when she recoiled
a pace he faced her squarely. "You must have been drinking," he