"You must hurry or I shall beat you," she called back to
him.
XIII
In his own room, with the door closed and locked, Keith felt again that
dull, strange pain that made his heart sick and the air about him
difficult to breathe.
"IF YOU WEREN'T MY BROTHER."
The words beat in his brain. They were pounding at his heart until it
was smothered, laughing at him and taunting him and triumphing over him
just as, many times before, the raving voices of the weird wind-devils
had scourged him from out of black night and arctic storm. HER BROTHER!
His hand clenched until the nails bit into his flesh. No, he hadn't
thought of that part of the fight! And now it swept upon him in a
deluge. If he lost in the fight that was ahead of him, his life would
pay the forfeit. The law would take him, and he would hang. And if he
won--she would be his sister forever and to the end of all time! Just
that, and no more. His SISTER! And the agony of truth gripped him that
it was not as a brother that he saw the glory in her hair, the glory in
her eyes and face, and the glory in her slim little, beautiful
body--but as the lover. A merciless preordination had stacked the cards
against him again.
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