and was upon the knob of the door. Then she came toward him swiftly.
Half way across the room she stopped. Suddenly her face was scarlet,
her eyes were shining at him like stars. Her beauty was a new beauty,
infinitely desirable.

"Were I the man," she said with a voice which shook with the passion in
it, "I'd not want my woman to come to me! I'd want to go to her, to
take her with my own strength, to hold her with it, to know that she
was too proud to yield even when she was burning to be taken!"

"Ygerne!" he said sharply.

There was a sort of defiance in the sudden, tensity of her erect body,
an imperiousness in the carriage of her head. Her eyes met his with
something of the same defiance in them. But in them, too, was a great
light.

Drennen came to her swiftly. His arms tightened about her, drawing her
so close that each heart felt the other striking against it. She let
him hold her so, but even yielding she seemed to resist. His lips,
seeking her red mouth, found it this time. She gave back the passion
of his kiss passionately. He felt a thrill through him like an
electric current.

"By God, Ygerne," he cried joyously, "we'll make life over now!"

Suddenly she had wrenched herself free of him.

"I didn't love you yesterday," she said pantingly, holding him back at
arm's length, her wide, half-frightened eyes upon his. "Will I love
you to-morrow? . . . You must go now; go!"

He put out his arms for her but she had run back to the door through
which she had come to him. He heard the door close, then another. She
had gone to her own room.

Caught up between heaven and hell he made his way homeward. Passing
her window he saw that it was dark. He hesitated, then moved on.
Suddenly he stopped. He had heard her singing, her voice lilting
gaily, quite as though no strong emotion had come into her life
to-night. A swift anger vaguely tinged with dread leaped into
Drennen's heart. She was humming a line of Garcia's little song:

"_Dios! It is sweet to be young and to love!_"

CHAPTER XIV

DRENNEN MAKES A DISCOVERY

For David Drennen, in whose mouth the husks of life were dry and harsh
and bitter, a miracle had happened. Nor was that miracle any the less
a golden wonder because to other men in other times it had been the
same. Marshall Sothern had been right; the time had come when a
woman's responsibilities were to be greater than those of the head of a
monster corporation.