gun--grasped with thrill on thrill--slipped farther down, strong and
sure to raise the hammer. Then with a leaping, strung intensity that
matched his own she drew the gun. She raised it while her eyes were
shut. She lay passive under his kisses--the devouring kisses of one
whose manhood had been denied the sweetness, the glory, the fire,
the life of woman's lips. It was a moment in which she met his
primitive fury of possession with a woman's primitive fury of
profanation. She pressed the gun against his side and pulled the
trigger.

A thundering, muffled, hollow boom! The odor of burned powder stung
her nostrils. Kells's hold on her tightened convulsively, loosened
with strange, lessening power. She swayed back free of him, still
with tight-shut eyes. A horrible cry escaped him--a cry of mortal
agony. It wrenched her. And she looked to see him staggering amazed,
stricken, at bay, like a wolf caught in cruel steel jaws. His hands
came away from both sides, dripping with blood. They shook till the
crimson drops spattered on the wall, on the boughs. Then he seemed
to realize and he clutched at her with these bloody hands.

"God Almighty!" he panted. "You shot me! ... You--you girl! ... You
she-cat... You knew--all the time... You she-cat! ... Give me--that
gun!"

"Kells, get back! I'll kill you!" she cried. The big gun,
outstretched between them, began to waver.

Kells did not see the gun. In his madness he tried to move, to reach
her, but he could not; he was sinking. His legs sagged under him,
let him down to his knees, and but for the wall he would have