’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood.
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