"Don't torture me!" "Do you remember long ago--when we quarreled so dreadfully--because you kissed me ?" she asked.
"Do you think I could kiss _you_--and live to forget ?" "I love you!" she whispered, shyly, feeling the hot blood burn her.
That whisper transformed Wilson Moore.

His arm flashed round her neck and pulled her face down to his, and, holding her in a close embrace, he kissed her lips and cheeks and wet eyes, and then again her lips, passionately and tenderly.
Then he pressed her head down upon his breast.
"My God! I can't believe! Say it again!" he cried, hoarsely.
Columbine buried her flaming face in the blanket covering him, and her hands clutched it tightly.

The wildness of his joy, the strange strength and power of his kisses, utterly changed her.

Upon his breast she lay, without desire to lift her face.

All seemed different, wilder, as she responded to his appeal: "Yes, I love you! Oh, I love--love--love you!" "Dearest!...