"
Again Macdonald paced restlessly down the room and back. He moved
with a long, easy, tireless stride. The man was one among ten thousand,
dominant, virile, every ounce of him strong as tested steel. But he felt
as if all his energy were caged.
"Why don't you go?" the girl pleaded. "It's no use to stay."
He stopped in front of her. "I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Don't think
I'll let that meddler interfere with our happiness. You're mine."
"No. Never!" she cried. "I'll take the boat and go home first."
"You've promised to marry me. You're going to keep your word and be glad
of it all your life."
She shook her head. "No."
"Yes." Macdonald had always shown remarkable restraint with her. He had
kissed her seldom, and always with a kind of awe at her young purity.
Now he caught her by the shoulders. His eyes, deep in their sockets,
mirrored the passionate desire of his heart.
The color flamed into her face. She looked hot to the touch, an active
volcano ready to erupt. There was an odd feeling in her mind that this
big man was a stranger to her.
"Take your hands from me," she ordered.
"Do you think I'm going to give you up now--now, after I've won
you--because of a damfool scruple in your pretty head? You don't know
me.
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