"Kiss me," he pleaded tensely; "I love you."
Her breath came quick, her whole body trembling violently. There was a hushed moment in which he saw her dark eyes dilate and half close with a savage gleam.
He sprang toward her.
"For God's sake, don't!" she gasped, as he tried to take her in his arms.
"I love you—I love you!" he repeated fiercely. "Don't you trust me? You will—you shall listen to me. I can't leave you like this; it may be months before we shall see each other again. It is your right to be happy—to be loved—every woman has—Why don't you take it?"
"What do you mean?" she stammered, her blood running cold.
"I mean that neither he nor your daughter loves you—that you are mine—not theirs."
She lay back in the wicker chair, scarcely breathing.
"Yes, it's my fault," he continued pitilessly; "but it is because I love you—because you are dearest to me. I want you near me—close to me always. I've thought it all out. Come to New York; there we shall find an enchanted island, the paradise I have longed for—that we've both longed for."
Her eyes looked straight into his own. They were wide open—filled for the instant with a strange look of amazement.