I got of it you could never guess. There, black and blue, was the
imprint of your fingers--your fingers, Chris, your fingers. It was
the touch of you made visible. It was there a week, and I kissed the
marks--oh, so often! I hated to see them go; I wanted to rebruise the
arm and make them linger. I was jealous of the returning white that
drove the bruise away. Somehow,--oh! I cannot explain, but I loved you
so!"

In the silence that fell, she continued her caressing of his hair, while
she idly watched a great gray squirrel, boisterous and hilarious, as
it scampered back and forth in a distant vista of the redwoods. A
crimson-crested woodpecker, energetically drilling a fallen trunk,
caught and transferred her gaze. The man did not lift his head. Rather,
he crushed his face closer against her knee, while his heaving shoulders
marked the hardness with which he breathed.

"You must tell me, Chris," the girl said gently. "This mystery--it is
killing me. I must know why we cannot be married. Are we always to be
this way?--merely lovers, meeting often, it is true, and yet with the
long absences between the meetings? Is it all the world holds for you
and me, Chris? Are we never to be more to each other? Oh, it is good
just to love, I know--you have made me madly happy; but one does get so
hungry at times for something more! I want more and more of you, Chris.
I want all of you. I want all our days to be together. I want all the
companionship, the comradeship, which cannot be ours now, and which will
be ours when we are married--" She caught her breath quickly. "But we
are never to be married. I forgot. And you must tell me why."

The man raised his head and looked her in the eyes. It was a way he had
with whomever he talked, of looking them in the eyes.

"I have considered you, Lute," he began doggedly. "I did consider you at
the very first. I should never have gone on with it. I should have gone
away. I knew it. And I considered you in the light of that knowledge,
and yet... I did not go away. My God! what was I to do? I loved you.
I could not go away. I could not help it. I stayed. I resolved, but
I broke my resolves. I was like a drunkard. I was drunk of you. I was
weak, I know. I failed. I could not go away. I tried. I went away--you
will remember, though you did not know why. You know now. I went away,
but I could not remain away. Knowing that we could never marry, I came
back to you. I am here, now, with you. Send me