heavily, as though his heart would break. Then looking up into her
face, he said in thick tones.

"Have you no pity for me?"

"None, you have crossed my path, you have clouded my sky."

Had she pity for him, fool that he was to ask. Has the owner of
the favourite at Goodwood pity for the jockey who swoons in a
death-sickness, causing the next to come in a head's length? Has the
eagle pity for the young mother's wail for her babe as he carried it
aloft to feed the young? No, she told herself she had spoiled him,
allowing him the _entree_ to her presence for the past seven or eight
years at will. She cared for him too for his bold, fierce, passionate
nature, that is--in a way, if only he would not insist on monopoly,
but she would be willing to barter one clasp of the hand, one look
from the eyes of gay, genial, handsome, fascinating Captain Trevalyon
for the total banishment of her bold wooer.

"I have crossed your path, clouded your sky, and is this all the
comfort you give me for years of devotion?" he said slowly, and in a
broken voice. "Crossed your path because my love lives, while yours
for me is dead; crossed your path, clouded your sky, because I am
constant and wish to have you for my wife; wish to keep you in my
arms. Lincoln Tompkins never knew; our world never knew; crossed your
path? By the stars, Kate, I will not give you up!" And there is a
sudden fierceness in his tones, while his breath comes hard and fast.
"Crossed your path? 'tis Trevalyon who has again crossed mine. Gad!
how I hate him." And he set his teeth. "To think, too, that with your
high spirit, you should plead to him for his love."