not cold-blooded to-night, Puck," he said. "Whatever you
are--child or woman--gutter-snipe or angel--you are mine, all mine.
And--I want you!"

The deep note vibrated in his voice; he stooped over her.

But she flung herself back over his arm, striving desperately to avoid
him. "No--no--no!" she cried, wildly. "You mustn't, Billikins! Don't
kiss me! Don't kiss me!"

She threw up a desperate hand, covering his mouth. "Don't--oh, don't!"
she entreated, brokenly.

But the fire she had kindled she was powerless to quench. He would not
be frustrated. He caught her hand away. He held her to his heart. He
kissed the red lips hotly, with the savage freedom of a nature long
restrained.

"Who has a greater right?" he said, with fiery exultation.

She did not answer him. But at the first touch of his lips upon her own
she resisted no longer, only broke into agonized tears.

And suddenly Merryon came to himself--was furiously, overwhelmingly
ashamed.

"God forgive me!" he said, and let her go.

She tottered a little, covering her face with her hands, sobbing like a
hurt child. But she did not try to run away.

He flung round upon his heel and paced the veranda in fierce discomfort.
Beast that he was--brute beast to have hurt her so! That piteous sobbing
was more than he could bear.

Suddenly he turned back to her, came and stood beside her. "Puck--Puck,
child!" he said.

His voice was soft and very urgent. He touched the bent, dark head with
a hesitating caress.

She started away from him with a gasp of dismay; but he checked her.

"No, don't!" he said. "It's all right, dear. I'm not such a brute as I
seem. Don't be afraid of me!"

There was more of pleading in his voice than he knew. She raised her
head suddenly, and looked at him as if puzzled.

He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her wet cheeks with clumsy
tenderness. "It's all right," he said again. "Don't cry! I hate to see
you cry."

She gazed at him, still doubtful, still sobbing a little. "Oh,
Billikins!" she said, tremulously, "why did you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I was mad. It was your own fault, in a way.
You don't seem to realize that I'm as human as the rest of the world.
But I don't defend myself. I was an infernal brute to let myself go like
that."

"Oh, no, you weren't, Billikins!" Quite unexpectedly she answered him.
"You couldn't help it. Men are like that. And I'm glad you're human.
But--but"--she faltered a little--"I want to