nd the soft red ran up again into her face, as
she met that young, keen look, all fierce with wounded love.

"How _dare_ you say that I do not love you really?" he demanded, his
voice shaking with passion. "Even Selene didn't _trample_ on
Endymion----"

She went pale.

"My dear...."

"How can you call me 'your dear,' and yet set your foot down like
that--hard--right on my bare heart! How can you suggest that my love for
you is not real?"

He flung his arm about her suddenly--caught both her hands in his.

"Listen...." he said. "Perhaps because I bring you worship, too, you
think that I don't love you with man's love.... But it's because I love
you so madly that I bring you worship. I wouldn't soil the soles of your
shoes with what most men call love. I never believed in this kind ...
this that I feel for you. But, by God! I've found it _is_ real! It only
kneels because it's so strong. Because it's so strong, it has reverence.
Do you understand? Now give me your lips to worship. Don't waste them in
words. You needn't fear my kisses ... white Moon. I wouldn't sully you
with base fire."

He had drawn her to her feet. He held her crushed against him. His face
was white and fine with purifying fire.

Sophy felt awe steal over her. This was no boy that held her. His love
made him her equal. And he offered her what she had craved without
knowing it--the fire of love tempered with adoration.

"Give me your lips, my Wonder ... my white Wonder!" he was commanding,
yet there was also pleading in his voice. "Give me your lips, that I may
show you _how_ I love you ... not with gross hunger, but with thirst ...
divine thirst...."

That golden trance crept over her, as on the night before. Her head lay
drowned in its thick hair against his breast. He stooped slowly,
marvelling at the rapt beauty of her white, upturned face. Like a face
coming slowly towards her through deep waters, his face bent nearer.
There was that fine, quivering touch upon her lips--then their mouths
melted into one....

This kiss was no less marvellous than their first had been. But it held
this difference: With it she yielded herself consciously, though against
her judgment.

They stood there tranced, after this long kiss was over, as they had sat
hand in hand the evening before.

He said shakenly at last:

"'Too young'?... '_Too young_'--am I? God!--I feel as though I had been
from everlasting...."

X

But though Sophy yielded to