"You've stooped," said Anthony.
"I've not stooped," was the fierce reply.
"We won't argue it," said Anthony. "I owe you for your—your interest, at any rate. You've been good enough to interest yourself in my——"
"Aren't—you—interested?" said Valerie, staring into the distance and seeing nothing.
For a long minute the man sat motionless, not seeming to breathe.
Then—
"Yes," he said slowly, "I am. And that's the devil of it." With a sudden jerk he was on one knee beside her and had caught her hand. "Oh, lady, don't you see? That's what kills everything. Am I interested? Good God, I'm—I'm crazy! I can think of nothing else. You blot out everything in the world. Whatever I do, or say, or think, you're always there. There's nothing but you, you, you! And you ask if I'm interested!"
A wandering puff of salt air swooped out of the windless sky, ruffled his thick dark hair, and was gone, panting. A gull sailed close to them, circled, dipped and sped seaward with a smooth rush. The league-long shadow of a cloud swept stately over the gleaming woods, driving the sunlight before it, itself driven before the twin of its prey…. The silver wire of silence became more and more tense. Each second gave another turn to the screw. Valerie began to tremble….
"And that," said Lyveden at last, "that's why we can't be friends. I can't be your friend because I love you; and I mustn't love you because——"
"Why?"
"Because it's out of the question," he flashed. "Don't tempt me, Valerie. You know it is. I'm crying for something that's utterly, hopelessly, laughably out of my reach. I haven't the right to the moonlight, and I want—the moon."