the
strongest instincts of his nature; and the bewildering beauty of her as
she danced, the languorous, ethereal allure, delicately sensuous as the
fragrance of a La France rose, sent the hot blood rioting through his
veins. . . . She was going--slowly retreating from him. The primal
man in him, the innate hunter who took his mate by capture, swept him
headlong. With a bound he sprang past the dusky shrubbery that hedged
the lawn and overtook her, catching her in his arms. She did not
struggle. He felt her yield, and strained the soft, panting body closer
to him. Beneath his hand he could feel the hurrying beat of her heart.
Her breath, quickened by the exertion of the dance, came unevenly
between her lips as she smiled at him.

"Do you still want me to go away, Dan Storran?"

There was a note of half-amused, half-triumphant mockery in her voice.
The last bonds that held him snapped suddenly: "Yes!" he cried hoarsely.
"Yes, I do. To go away with me!"

He crushed his mouth down on hers, draining the sweetness of her in
burning kisses he had thwarted through all these weeks that they had
been together, pouring out his love in disjointed, stumbling phrases
which halted by very reason of the force of passion which evoked them.

Frightened by the tempest of emotion she had aroused she strained away
from him. But she was powerless against his huge strength, helpless to
resist him.

At length the fierce tensity of his grip relaxed, though his arms still
clasped her.

"Tell me," he commanded triumphantly. "Tell me you love me. I want to
hear it!" His voice vibrated and his eyes sought her face hungrily.

She summoned up all her forces to deny him--to deny him in such a manner
that he should realise his mistake absolutely and at once. "But I don't!
I don't love you! If you thought that, you misunderstood me."

His hands released their hold of her and fell heavily to his sides.
"Misunderstood?" he muttered. The glad triumph went suddenly out of his
voice. "Misunderstood?" he repeated dully.

"Yes. Misunderstood me altogether."

"I don't believe it!"

"But you _must_ believe it," she insisted. "It's the truth!"

He stared at her.

"Then what have you meant all these weeks?"

"I've not meant anything."

"It's a lie!" he gave back savagely. "Unless"--he came closer to
her--"unless--is it that man, that damned foreigner, who was here
to-day?"

"Antoine? No. Oh, Dan"--she forced an uncertain little laugh to her
l