She was Circe, born again. Decidedly, here was dangerous ground. He was far too intelligent not to realize the complication that might ensue should he yield to this sudden gust of desire, this strange new yearning never felt before, this impulse for possession without passion, that shook his very soul. He told himself he must continue to play a part, to decline to take her otherwise than paternally, to evade, at all hazard, the pitfall yawning before him.
“It is not well to think too long or too hard,” Tamea whispered. “Your people count the costs, but mine do not.”
Apparently the amazing creature knew of what he was thinking! He was cornered, he would have to escape and that quickly. “I was just thinking, Tamea, that my house will be lonely after your bright presence,” he said, a trifle unsteadily.
She gasped. “You plan to send me from you, Dan Pritchard?”
“Temporarily, my dear. In spring the climate of this part of California is too cold and raw for you. Tomorrow you and Julia and Mrs. Pippy will go in the car to Del Monte, where it is more like your own country. After you have been there a month and have grown accustomed to our ways, you will go to a convent to be educated.”
She stood with her hands on his shoulders, pondering this. Then: “This is your desire?”
“Yes.”
She looked into the very soul of him. “I do not believe that,” she declared and looked up at him so wistfully that his reason tottered on its throne and fell, crashing, into the valley of his desire. He crushed her to him and their lips met. . . .
Out of the semi-darkness a familiar voice spoke. “Captain’s girl velly nice. What Sooey Wan tell you, boss? Now you ketchum heap savvy.”
Dan Pritchard fled upstairs, leaving the triumphant Tamea to follow at her leisure. “Fool, fool!” The voice of conscience beat in his brain.