hampers. Automobiles were parked at a little distance, and he made a
detour to avoid the scene.

He emerged upon an animated tableau of modern nymph and modish satyr
in a close-by forest aisle. The girl was flushed and disheveled and was
resisting a young man who had pushed aside her veil and was kissing her
with ardor. She beat him back with her gloved hands and eluded him, but
he caught her to him with more of rough passion than tender affection.

"We are engaged to be married," he insisted. "Why shouldn't I kiss you?
Don't be a prude!"

She thrust her protesting palms against him and set her arms rigidly and
held her head away, not with coyness, but with indignation and fierce
rebellion.

"I love you! My God, can't you understand?" he gasped. "I can't keep my
hands off you. You can't handle a man as you're trying to handle me. I
must have some affection from you!"

"Richard! I'll not endure this! I am insulted!"

"My kisses an insult? I'm no ice-water lover. You set me crazy. I can't
help myself."

She wrenched herself from his grasp and faced him, her face filled with
outraged fury.

Farr had started to leave the scene. He stopped. The girl was the girl
of the red lips and the dark eyes.