"Marcia, we—we should be going on," he muttered.
"Ah, Jerry, not yet," she sighed. "Isn't it wonderful that there's no quarrel between us? Just you and I, Jerry, here, alone, like the first man and woman—alone in the world. There's no man in it but you, no woman but me, we're mated, Jerry, like the birds. Don't you hear them singing? The woods are alive with songs of love. And you, Jerry, you stand there staring at me with those great, timid eyes of yours. Why do you stare at me so? Are you frightened? I think that I am stronger than you. It is love that makes me strong. Come to me, Jerry. Kiss me, again."
"Marcia!" he gasped. And then another silence.
"I mustn't."
"I love you, Jerry."
"Will you marry me? Tomorrow!"
"Marriage, Jerry? Yes, some day—"
"Tomorrow—!"
"Aren't you satisfied—with this? The wonder of it."
"But I have no right. I can't explain. It's desecration!"