a freer dress. Oceaxe in her drapery appeared more dangerously
feminine to him.

"I don't want you to receive gifts at all from other women," she
remarked slowly.

"Why not? What can I be to you?"

"I have been thinking about you during the night." Her voice was
retarded, scornful, viola-like. She sat down on the trunk of a
fallen tree, and looked away.

"In what way?"

She returned no answer to his question, but began to pull off pieces
of the bark.

"Last night you were so contemptuous."

"Last night is not today. Do you always walk through the world with
your head over your shoulder?"

It was now Maskull's turn to be silent.

"Still, if you have male instincts, as I suppose you have, you can't
go on resisting me forever."

"But this is preposterous" said Maskull, opening his eyes wide.
"Granted that you are a beautiful woman--we can't be quite so
primeval."