"M'sieu!"
Maren Le Moyne wrenched herself free and lifted her face to look at
him.
It was a warring field.
Upon it lay a great astonishment, a wonder, and a newness. Behind these
there came, creeping swiftly with each moment of her startled gaze, an
odd excitement that mounted with each panting breath that left his
lips, for it was from him that it took its life. Her red mouth dropped
apart, showing the gleam of the white teeth between. She looked like a
child rudely shaken from its sleep, startled, perhaps vaguely
frightened at the strange shapes of familiar things distorted by the
vision not yet adjusted.
"M'sieu!" she stammered; "M'sieu!"
And with her voice McElroy felt the arrested blood rush back to his
heart again, for it held no anger. Instead it was full of that startled
wonder, and it was as gold to him.
"Maren," he said, the emotion choking him; "Maren--" and with that new
courage he put both hands on her shoulders and drew her near, looking
down into the eyes so near on a level with his own.
Deliberately, slowly, that she might fully catch the meaning of what he
was about to do, he drooped his lips until they rested square on the
red mouth.
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