The little surrender, even though she drew back immediately, was wine to
him and as truly an intoxicant.
"Marylin," he cried, wild for her lips again, "I can't be held off much
longer. I'm straight with you, but I'm human, too."
"Don't, Getaway, not here! To-morrow--maybe."
"I'm crazy for you!"
"Go home now, Getaway."
"Yes--but just one more--"
"Promise me you'll go straight home from here--to bed."
"I promise. Marylin, one more. One little more. Your lips--"
"No, no--not now. Go--"
Suddenly, by a quirk in the dark, there was a flash of something down
Marylin's bare third finger, so hurriedly and so rashly that it scraped
the flesh.
"That's for you! I've been afraid all day. Touchy! Didn't I tell you?
Diamonds! Now will you kiss me? Now will you?"
In the shadow of where she stood, looking down, it was as if she gazed
into a pool of fire that was reaching in flame clear up about her head,
and everywhere in the conflagration Getaway's triumphant "Now will you!
Now will you!"
"Getaway," she cried, flecking her hand as if it burned, "where did you
get this?"
"It's for you, Fairylin, and more like it coming.
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