More scared than hurt, you know, etc., etc.
He picked his way through the ever-increasing crowd of agitated
people, avoiding rampant automobiles and inquisitive citizens with
equal skill, and approached Alix's gate. His blood was rioting.
The memory of that triumphant moment when her warm body lay in his
arms,--when her lips were his,--when his eager hand pressed the
firm, round breast,--ah, the memory of it all set fire to his blood.
She had come to him, she had clung to him, she had kissed him! He
had won! She was his! He must see her again tonight, hold her once
more in his arms, drink of the rapture that came through her lips,
caress the throbbing heart she had surrendered to him. Anticipation
sent the blood rushing to his head. He grew strangely dizzy. He
narrowly escaped being struck by a car.
"The darned fools!" he muttered, as he leaped aside into the shallow
ditch.
A figure separated itself from a group near the gate and approached
him. There were no lights near and the lane was dark. He could
not see the face of the woman who halted directly in front of him,
barring the path.
"It is I, Courtney,--Rosabel," came in low, tremulous tones.
He stood stockstill, peering intently.
"Rosabel!" he repeated vacantly.
"I--I saw you. The auto lamp shone on your face."
Her teeth were chattering. Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252