Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. She will tell you all the story while I am gone. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed.
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