" "A lie!" exclaimed Jack in a terrible tone. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. It must be the dawn creeping in. "Save me!—save me!" "Damnation!" vociferated Jonathan, savagely. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it.
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