"Jerry," she cried. "It is horrible. You're a brute—beast—"
Jerry only pointed at the prostrate figure slowly struggling to its knees.
"Go and kiss him," he cried. "Go. Kiss him now. He's on his knees to you, waiting for you."
While they watched, Lloyd got to his feet, turned one look of terror in Jerry's direction and then fled blindly into the woods, like one possessed of a devil.
Jerry laughed. It couldn't have been very pretty laughter, for the girl covered her face with her hands and shrank away from him.
"How could you?" she stammered. "How could you?"
"You were mine. He wanted you."
"Jerry—I—. It's all a mistake. You thought you saw us. I haven't kissed—"
"You lie," he came a pace toward her. "I saw you. I'm not a fool—not any longer."
Her gaze met his and fell. There was something in his expression, something of the primitive that tore away all subterfuge.