is sore and hungry
heart throbbed with thick and heavy beats. He felt the outcast's need
of love. And he gave up to the enthralling moment. She met him half-way,
returned kiss for kiss, clasp for clasp, her face scarlet, her eyes
closed, till, her passion and strength spent, she fell back upon his
shoulder.

Duane suddenly thought she was going to faint. He divined then that she
had understood him, would have denied him nothing, not even her life, in
that moment. But she was overcome, and he suffered a pang of regret at
his unrestraint.

Presently she recovered, and she drew only the closer, and leaned upon
him with her face upturned. He felt her hands on his, and they were
soft, clinging, strong, like steel under velvet. He felt the rise and
fall, the warmth of her breast. A tremor ran over him. He tried to draw
back, and if he succeeded a little her form swayed with him, pressing
closer. She held her face up, and he was compelled to look. It was
wonderful now: white, yet glowing, with the red lips parted, and dark
eyes alluring. But that was not all. There was passion, unquenchable
spirit, woman's resolve deep and mighty.

"I love you, Duane!" she said. "For my sake don't go out to meet this
outlaw face to face. It's something wild in you. Conquer it if you love
me."

Duane became suddenly weak, and when he did take her into his arms again
he scarcely had strength to lift her to a seat beside him. She seemed
more than a dead weight. Her calmness had fled. She was throbbing,
palpitating, quivering, with hot wet cheeks and arms that clung to him
like vines. She lifted her mouth to his, whispering, "Kiss me!" She
meant to change him, hold him.

Duane bent down, and her arms went round his neck and drew him close.
With his lips on hers he seemed to float away. That kiss closed his
eyes, and he could not lift his head. He sat motionless holding her,
blind and helpless, wrapped in a sweet dark glory. She kissed him--one
long endless kiss--or else a thousand times. Her lips, her wet cheeks,
her hair, the softness, the fragrance of her, the tender clasp of her
arms, the swell of her breast--all these seemed to inclose him.

Duane could not put her from him. He yielded to her lips and arms,
watching her, involuntarily returning her caresses, sure now of her
intent, fascinated by the sweetness of her, bewildered, almost lost.
This was what it was to be loved by a woman. His years of outlawry had
blotted out any boyish l