Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry darted toward him.
"Stop!" shouted the man.

"He's dangerous! Kazan--" She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him.

Should he cringe back?
Should he snap?
Was she one of the things on the wall, and his enemy?
Should he leap at her white throat?
He saw the man running forward, pale as death.

Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body.

With both hands she turned up his head.