"Take me away, Dave!" she moaned. "I can't stand it. He beats me—he's a beast! It's been a living hell."
He stroked her hair gently, reveling in the soft tangle. He did not blame her for wanting to leave a brute like McGruder. In point of fact, she was voicing a thought which he had been pondering as he fell asleep.
Her lips sought his and clung, deliciously.
"Your kids," he suggested presently. "You wouldn't want to leave them. How'll we manage—?"
"I've thought it all out," she told him breathlessly. "In the morning you'll start down the coast. If he thinks you're out of the way, he'll go hunting as usual. Then you can come back and we'll slip away together."
"Suppose he follows. With two children we can't travel very fast."
"What if he does! You're strong, Dave—and unafraid. I've always admired you. He found me wandering around alone, frightened and starved, and we—well, there just wasn't anybody else. You know how it is."
"Sure," he agreed. "I don't blame you, kid."
Another clinging kiss, and she slipped away.
Marlin lay contentedly thinking of the morrow. He'd found the companionship he craved, at last. Sally was an attractive kid. In this new world, for all its hardships, she had blossomed in a full-bosomed, satisfying way. Her kisses were pleasant to recall. Now he could establish a home and live the way a man was meant to live.