"Please! You won't do that? Angus, you know how proud he is! He will be furious if he finds out that I've spoken to you about--about--our love. Won't you wait until he tells you of his own accord?" He ground his teeth in an ugly fury. "You understand? If I find you've been playing with me, it'll mean death for Harrigan, and worse than that for you?" She made her glance sad and gentle. "Will you never trust me, Angus?" He answered, with a sort of wonder at himself: "Since I was a child, you are the first person in the world who has had the right to call me by my first name." "Not a single woman?" and she shivered. "Not one." She pondered: "No love, no friendship, not even pity to bring you close to a single human being all your life?" "No child has ever come near me, for I've never had room for pity. No man has been my friend, for I've spent my time fighting them and breaking them. And I've despised women too much to love them." The tears rose to her eyes as she spoke: "I pity you from the bottom of my soul!" "Pity? Me? By God, Kate, you'll teach me to hate you!" "I can't help it. Why, if you have never loved, you have never lived!" "You talk like a girl in a Sunday school! Ha, have I never lived? Men were made strong so that a stronger man should be their master; and women--" "And women, Angus?" "All women are fools; one woman is divine!" The yearning of his eyes gave a bitter meaning to his words, and she was shaken like a leaf blown here and there by contrary winds. Unheeded, the sudden tropic night swooped upon them like the shadow of a giant bird, and as the dark increased, they saw the glimmering of the fire upon the hill. She rose, and he followed her until they reached the upward slope. Then he said: "You will want to be alone with him for a time. Can you find the rest of the way?" "Yes. You'll come soon?" "I'll come soon, but I have to be by myself for a while. I may hate you for it afterward, but now I'm weak and soft inside--like a child--and I only wish for your happiness." "God bless you, Angus!" "God help me," he answered harshly, and stepped into the blank night of the shadow of the trees. Harrigan shook his head in wonder when he saw her coming alone. He had built up the fire and heaped fresh fuel in towering piles nearby. The flames shot up twenty and thirty feet, making a wide signal across the sea. "He's gone off by himself again?" questioned the Irishman. She complained: "I can't understand him. Will he be always like this? What shall I do, Dan?" He met her appeal with a smile, but the blue eyes went cold at once and he sighed. It would never do to have the two sitting silent beside that fire. The brooding of McTee would excite no suspicions in the mind of Harrigan, but the quiet of the Irishman would be sure to excite the suspicions of the other. "Will you do something for me, Dan?" He looked up with a whimsical yearning. "Teach McTee manners? Aye, with all me heart!"