She shrank a little; for there was something intolerable in his words.  Had she really counted the cost?  Her eyelids fluttered under that unsparing look, fluttered and sank.  “You will know—­some day,” she whispered.

“Ah!  Some day!” he said.

Again his voice vibrated.  It was as if some door that led to his innermost being had opened suddenly, releasing a savage, primitive force which till then he had held restrained.

And in that moment it came to her that the thing she valued most in life had been rudely torn from her.  She saw that new, most precious gift of hers that had sprung to life in the wilderness and which she had striven so desperately to shield from harm—­that holy thing which had become dearer to her than life itself—­desecrated, broken, and lying in the dust.  And it was Burke who had flung it there, Burke who now ruthlessly trampled it underfoot.

Her throat worked again painfully for a moment or two; and then with a great effort of the will she stilled it.  This thing was beyond tears—­a cataclysm wrecking the whole structure of existence.  Neither tears nor laughter could ever be hers again.  In silence she took the cup of bitterness, and drank it to the dregs.

PART IV

CHAPTER I

SAND OF THE DESERT

Donovan Kelly was out of temper.  There was no denying it, though with him such a frame of mind was phenomenal.  He leaned moodily against the door-post at the hotel-entrance, smoking a short pipe of very strong tobacco, and speaking to no one.  He had been there for some time, and the girl in the office was watching him with eyes round with curiosity.  For he had not even said “Good morning” to her.  She wanted to accost him, but somehow the hunch of his shoulders was too discouraging even for her.  So she contented herself with waiting developments.

There were plenty of men coming and going, but though several of them gave him greeting as they passed, Kelly responded to none.  He seemed to be wrapped in a gloomy fog of meditation that cut him off completely from the outside world.  He was alone with himself, and in that state he obviously intended to remain.

But the girl in the office had her own shrewd suspicions as to the reason of his waiting there, suspicions which after the lapse of nearly half an hour she triumphantly saw verified.  For presently through the shifting, ever-changing crowd a square-shouldered man made his appearance, and without a glance to right or left went straight to the big Irishman lounging in the doorway, and took him by the shoulder.

Kelly started round with an instant smile of welcome.  “Ah, and is it yourself at last?  I’ve been waiting a devil of a time for ye, my son.  Is all well?”

The girl in the office did not hear Burke’s reply though she craned far forward to do so.  She only saw his shoulders go up slightly, and the next moment the two men turned and entered the public dining-room together.