He held her close, towering over her, while he gazed around him and down at her, shaking his head, muttering again in bewilderment.
“Reddy dear—where, oh, where is Neale?” she breathed, all her heart in her voice.
As he released her Allie felt a difference. His whole body seemed to gather, to harden, then vibrate, as if he had been stung.
“My Gawd!” he whispered in hoarse accents of amaze and horror. “Is it you—Allie—here?”
“Of course it’s I,” replied Allie, blankly.
His face turned white to the lips.
“Reddy, what in the world is wrong?” she gasped, beginning to wring her hands.
Suddenly he leaped at her. With rude, iron grasp he forced her back, under the light, and fixed piercing eyes upon hers. He bent closer. Allie was frightened, yet fascinated. His gaze hurt with its intensity, its strange, penetrating power. Allie could not bear it.
“Allie, look at me,” he said, low and hard. “For I reckon you mayn’t hev very long to live!”
Allie struggled weakly. He looked so gray, grim, and terrible. But she could resist neither his strength nor his spirit. She lay quiet and met the clear, strange fire of his eyes. In a few swift moments he had changed utterly.