can't get," said Crayven, sombrely. "I am an excellent person to preach on that text."
As she did not move he sat down again beside her.
"I do not believe," said Teresa, "that you are as badly off as you make out. If you were you wouldn't admit it. The real bankrupts never do."
"You don't believe I care for you, then?"
"As the pale shadow of Rosamond, perhaps!"
She was punished for her coquetry—for Crayven's rough and passoniate kiss woke nothing but repulsion in her. She sprang away from him and stood trembling with a desire to weep. She had turned quite white. After a moment she began to walk away from him down the slope.
"Not that way," he said coldly. "The path is here."
He went on ahead and she turned and followed him. Presently he stopped and waited, with his back to her and his head bent, looking at the ground, till she came near. Then he faced her.
"You should not play with me," he said hoarsely.
"No, I should not," she said.
She passed him and went on down to the chalet where shiftless human beings, cattle, pigs, and chickens huddled together on the very edge of the majestic cliffs. There Teresa drank her warm milk, sitting on a bench in the sun, while
