He stiffened as if he had been struck, but only for a second.  The next recklessly he laughed.  “That is just your way of putting it,” he said.  “Love doesn’t change—­like that.  It either goes out, or it remains—­for good.  It is you who don’t understand yourself.  You may turn your back on the truth, but you can’t alter it.  Those who have once been lovers—­and lovers such as you and I—­can never again be only friends.  That, if you like, is the impossible.  But—­” He paused for a moment, with lifted shoulders, then abruptly turned to go.  “Good-bye!” he said.

“You are going?” she questioned.

He swung on his heel as if irresolute.  “Yes, I am going.  I am going back to my cabin, back to my wallowing in the mire.  Why not?  Is there anyone who cares the toss of a halfpenny what I do?”

“Yes.”  Breathlessly she answered him; the words seemed to leap from her of their own accord, and surely it was hardly of her own volition that she followed and held his arm, detaining him.  “Guy!  You know we care.  Burke cares.  I care.  Guy, please, dear, please!  It’s such a pity.  Oh, it’s such a pity!  Won’t you—­can’t you—­fight against it?  Won’t you even—­try?  I know you could conquer, if only—­if only you would try!” Her eyes were raised to his.  She besought him with all the strength of her being.  She clung to him as if she would hold him back by sheer physical force from the abyss at his feet.  “Oh, Guy, it is worth while!” she pleaded.  “Indeed—­indeed it is worth while—­whatever it costs.  Guy,—­I beseech—­I implore you——­”

She broke off, for with a lightning movement he had taken her face between his hands.  “You can make it worth while,” he said.  “I will do it—­for you.”

He held her passionately close for an instant, but he did not kiss her.  She saw the impulse to do so in his eyes, and she saw him beat it fiercely back.  That was the only comfort that remained to her when the next moment he sprang away and went so swiftly from her that he was lost to sight almost before she knew that he was gone.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SUMMONS

When Kelly awoke that morning, it was some time later, and Burke was entering his hut with a steaming cup of cocoa.  The Irishman stretched his large bulk and laughed up at his friend.

“Faith, it’s the good host that ye are!  I’ve slept like a top, my son, and never an evil dream.  How’s the lad this morning?  And how’s the land?”

“The land’s all right so far,” Burke said.  “I’m just off to help them bring in the animals.  The northern dam has failed.”

Kelly leaped from his bed.  “I’ll come.  That’s just the job for me and St. Peter.  Don’t bring the missis along though!  It’s too much for her.”

“I know that,” Burke said shortly.  “I’ve told her so.  She is to take it easy for a bit.  The climate is affecting her.”