But she shook her head reprovingly. "We would still lack the jug of
wine, you know, and, really, I don't think that paradise is for
cow-punchers, anyway, do you?"
"Evidently not," he answered. And at her jesting words a queer feeling
of rebellion possessed him. Why should he be condemned to years of
loneliness? Why must he face a life without the companionship of a mate?
If the paradise he had sought so hard to attain were denied him, why
should he not still take what happiness he might?
He was lying flat on his back, his hands clasped beneath his head,
watching an eagle that wheeled, a tiny black speck, high under the blue
arch of the sky. He seemed to have forgotten his companion.
Kitty leaned toward him, and held a sprig of water-cress over his
upturned face. "I haven't a penny," she said, "but I'll give you this."
He sat up quickly. "Even at that price, my thoughts might cost you too
much. But you haven't told me what you have done with our dear friend
the professor? Haven't you a guilty conscience, deserting him like
this?"
Kitty held up both hands in a gesture of dismay. "Don't, Patches, please
don't.
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