longing! Her hand stole to her heart to
still the fury of its beating.

"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in
gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes--do
you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine--and you know it--girl!

His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with
suppressed passion. Opal was held spell-bound by the subtle charm of his
languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak--she
could not think--the spell of his fascination overpowered her.

She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till
it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened
to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations.

"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!"
Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart
leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal--your hair--your lips--your
glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!"

He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of
response--blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his
brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from
every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going
to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of
his triumph rob him of the one day--his little day?

It was too much.

More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could
have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he
stumbled toward the door.

"Paul!... Paul!"

He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of
earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him--those
round, white arms.

"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his
neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you!
Do you hear, I love you! I am yours--utterly--heart, mind, soul, and
body! Don't you know that I am yours?"

She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart
throbbing fiercely against his own.

"Paul--Paul--I am mad, I think!--we are both mad, you and I!"

And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the
intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness
of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love--my love!"

CHAPTER XXV

The mornin