Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/202

178 He looked at her, his eyes agleam.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, his mouth working with eagerness. “Perhaps I should. But if I did, you would stab me in the night.”

He was weaving the spell about her again; she gazed at him, half-fascinated.

“Yes,” she said intensely; “yes—I should like to do it now!”

His eyes flashed with sudden triumph.

“And yet you think yourself in love with Drysdale!” he cried. “Did he ever awaken a wish like that in you?”

“No; thank God!” and she shivered slightly.

He was radiant, assured.

“Nor any other feeling except a baby liking! Yet you yield to his fancied right; you promise to explain to him! It was to do that you came here tonight”

“Who told you that?”

“He did.”

“Then why isn’t he here?”

“He preferred to commune with nature,” Tremaine answered, in an indescribable tone. “Think of any man preferring nature to you—preferring anything to you—life, honour—anything! Do you know what I’m longing to do? I’m longing to take you in my arms and hold you fast and kiss you on those red lips of yours—kiss you, kiss you”

He was half out of his chair, leaning over her. Another instant—but his ears caught the opening of a door.

“Here comes Delroy,” he said in another tone,