In Which Kings and Commoners Discuss Love

Just at that moment the American could not have spoken. He had come to a
point of pent-up emotion which can move only by breaking dams. He
pointed to a chair, but Karyl shook his head.

For a while neither spoke. Karyl's hair was rumpled; his eyes darkly
ringed, and the line of his lips close set. Benton glanced out of his
window. Across the gardens the wall was growing blanker, as lighted
panes fell dark. One window, which he knew was Cara's, still showed a
parallelogram of light behind its drawn shade. Karyl in passing followed
the glance. He, too, recognized the window.

At last the Galavian spoke.

"Can you spare me a half-hour?"

Benton nodded. He would have preferred any other time. He needed
opportunity for self-collection.

Again Karyl spoke.

"Benton, I might as well be brief. There are two of us. In this world
there is room for only one. One of us is an interloper."

The American felt the blood rush to his face; he felt it pound at the
back of his eyeballs, at the base of his brain. An instinct of fury,
which was only half-sane, flooded him. Red spots danced before his eyes.
The other had spoken slowly, almost gently, yet he could read only
challenge in the words, and the challenge was one he hungered to accept.

He made a tremendous effort for self-mastery and rose slowly, turning a
white face on his visitor.