Was this a dream? Swift and hard his lips met
hers--and again--and again. . . .
"Oh, my God!--Glenn, are--you--mad?" she whispered, almost swooning.
"Sure--I reckon I am," he replied, huskily, and pulled her all the way out
of the saddle.
Carley would have fallen but for his support. She could not think. She was
all instinct. Only the amaze--the sudden horror--drifted--faded as before
fires of her heart!
"Kiss me!" he commanded.
She would have kissed him if death were the penalty. How his face blurred
in her dimmed sight! Was that a strange smile? Then he held her back from
him.
"Carley--you came to wish Flo and me happiness?" he asked.
"Oh, yes--yes. . . . Pity me, Glenn--let me go. I meant well. . . . I
should--never have come."
"Do you love me?" he went on, with passionate, shaking clasp.
"God help me--I do--I do! . . . And now it will kill me!"
"What did that damned fool Charley tell you?"
The strange content of his query, the trenchant force of it, brought her
upright, with sight suddenly cleared. Was this giant the tragic Glenn who
had strode to her from the cabin door?
"Charley told me--you and Flo--were married," she whispered.
"You didn't believe him!" returned Glenn.
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