He kissed her deeply and hungrily. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. He was still thickly clad in jeans. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. “I must read him when I come out. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family.
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