tures; wherefore he was hungry to beat them at
their own game, hungry to thrust himself ahead of them and compel them
to reckon with him as an equal, preferring a state of open enmity, if
necessary, to this condition of indifferent toleration. Moreover, he
knew that Necia was coveted by half of them, and if he spent a night in
the woods alone with her it would stir them up a bit, he fancied. By
Heaven! That would make them sit up and notice him! But then--it might
work a wrong upon her; and yet, would it? He was not so sure that it
would. She had come to him; she was old enough to know her mind, and
she was but a half-breed girl, after all, who doubtless was not so
simple as she seemed. Other men had no such scruples in this or any
other land, and yet the young man hesitated until, encouraged by his
silence, the girl came forward and spoke again, impulsively:

"Don't be silly, Mr. Burrell. Come! Please come with me, won't you?"

She took him by the edges of his coat and drew him to her coaxingly. It
may have been partly the spirit of revolt that had been growing in him
all day, or it may have been wholly the sense of her there beside him,
warm and pleading, but something caused a great wave to surge up
through his veins, caused him to take her in his arms, fiercely kissing
her upturned face again and again, crying softly, deep down in his
throat:

"Yes! Yes! Yes! You little witch! I'll go anywhere with you! Anywhere!
Anywhere!" The impulse was blind and ungovernable, and it grew as his
lips met hers, while, strangely enough, she made no resistance,
yielding herself quietly, till he found her arms wound softly about his
neck and her face nestling close to his. Neither of them knew how long
they stood thus blended together, but soon he grew conscious of the
beating of her heart against his breast, as she lay there like a little
fluttering bird, and felt the throbbing of his own heart swaying him.
Her arms, her lips, and her whole body clung to his in a sweet
surrender, and yet there was nothing immodest or unmaidenly about it,
for his strength and ardor had lifted her and drawn her to him as on
the sweep of a great wave.

She drew her face free and hid it against his neck, breathing softly
and with shy timidity, as if the sound of the words she whispered half
frightened her.

"I love you. I love you, Meade."

It may happen that a man will spend months in friendly and charming
intimacy with a woman and never feel th