Kate’s eyes were turned from him. They were full of a great burning joy and love. And the love was all for this man, so recklessly desirous of her happiness.
She shook her head without turning to him.
“You must not,” she said, in deep thrilling tones. “You must not forego the duty you owe yourself. If you capture Charlie he must pay the price. No thought of me must influence you. And I—I am ready to pay the forfeit. I made the wager with my eyes wide open—wide, wide.”
Fyles stirred uneasily. He meant every word he had said, and somehow he felt he was still beyond the barrier, still outside the citadel he was striving to reduce.
“Yes, I know,” he said almost bitterly. “It is just a wager—a wager between us. It is a wager whereby we can force our convictions upon each other.”
Kate nodded, and the warm light of her eyes had changed to a look of anxiety.
“There is a whole day and more before the—settlement, a day and night which may be fraught with a world of disaster. Let us leave it at that—for the present.” Then, with an effort, she banished the seriousness from her manner. “But I am delaying. I must pack my grip, and harness my team. You see, I must leave directly after dinner.”
Fyles accepted his dismissal. He turned to his horse and prepared to mount. Kate followed his every movement with a forlorn little smile. She would have given anything if he could have stayed. But——.
“Good luck,” she cried, in a low tone.
“Good luck? Do you know what that means?” Fyles turned abruptly. “It means my winning the wager, Kate.”