I saw you! Saw you in Moore's arms! Saw him hug you--kiss you!...

Then--I saw--you put up your arms--round his neck--kiss him--kiss him--kiss him!...

I saw all that--didn't I ?" "You must have, since you say so," she returned, with perfect composure.
"But _did_ you ?" he almost shrieked, the blood cording and bulging red, as if about to burst the veins of temples and neck.
"Yes, I did," she flashed.

There was primitive woman uppermost in her now, and a spirit no man might provoke with impunity.
"_You love him ?_" he asked, very low, incredulously, with almost insane eagerness for denial in his query.
Then Wade saw the glory of her--saw her mother again in that proud, fierce uplift of face, that flamed red and then blazed white--saw hate and passion and love in all their primal nakedness.
"Love him! Love Wilson Moore?
Yes, you fool! I love him! Yes! _Yes!_ YES!" That voice would have pierced the heart of a wooden image, so Wade thought, as all his strung nerves quivered and thrilled.
Belllounds uttered a low cry of realization, and all his instinctive energy seemed on the verge of collapse.

He grew limp, he sagged, he tottered.