He turned to the window. Out across the refuse-heaps the rest of the camp was huddled together, a squalid collection of huts, uninspiring, unpicturesque. His glance satisfied him. There was not a living soul in view; not a sound except the prattle of the children who were still playing outside the hut. But the latter carried no meaning to him. In the heat of the moment even their mother was dead to the appeal of their piping voices.
“You’re coming away now, Jess,” the man went on, making a movement towards her.
But the girl drew back. The directness of his challenge was startling, and roused in her a belated defensiveness. Going away? It sounded suddenly terrible to her, and thrilled her with a rush of fear which set her shivering. And yet she knew that all along this––this was the end towards which she had been drifting. The rich color faded from her cheeks and her lips trembled.
“No, no,” she whispered in a terrified tone. For the moment all that was best in her rose up and threatened to defeat his end.
But James saw his mistake. For a second a flash of anger lit his eyes, and hot resentment flew to his lips. But it found no expression. Instead, the anger died out of his eyes, and was replaced by a fire of passion such as had always won its way with this girl. He moved towards her again with something subtly seductive in his manner, and his arms closed about her unresisting form in a caress she was powerless to deny. Passive yet palpitating she lay pressed in his arms, all her woman’s softness, all her subtle perfume, maddening him to a frenzy.
“Won’t you? I love you, Jessie, so that nothing else on earth counts. I can’t do without you––I can’t––I can’t!”
His hot lips crushed against hers, which yielded themselves all too willingly. Presently he raised his head, and his eyes held hers. “Won’t you come, Jess? There’s nothing here for you. See, I can give you all you wish for: money, a fine home, as homes go hereabouts. My ranch is a dandy place, and,” with a curious laugh, “stocked with some of the best cattle in the country. You’ll have horses to ride, and dresses––See! You can have all you want. What is there here? Nothing. Say, you don’t even get enough to eat. Scipio hasn’t got more backbone in him than to gather five cents when it’s raining dollars.” He kissed her upturned face again, and the warm responsive movement of her lips told him how easy his task really was.
But again she pressed him back, so that he held her only at arms’ length. Her swimming eyes gazed long and ardently into his.
“It isn’t that, Jim,” she said earnestly; “it isn’t that. Those things don’t count. It’s––it’s you. I––I don’t want dresses. I don’t want the money. I––I––want you.”
Then she started, terrified again.