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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Top of the World"


The touch of those hot, devouring lips awoke her. She had never
felt the slightest fear of Guy before that moment, but the
fierceness of his hold called a sharp warning in her soul. There
was about him an unrestraint, a lawlessness, that turned her relief
into misgiving. She put up a quick hand, checking him.
"Guy--Guy, you are hurting me!"
He relaxed his hold then, looking at her, his head back, the old
boyish triumph shining in his eyes. "Little sweetheart, I'm sorry.
I couldn't help it--just for the moment. The sight of you and the
touch of you together just turned my head. But it's all right.
Don't look so scared! I wouldn't harm a single hair of your
precious little head." He gathered up the long plait of her hair
and kissed it passionately.
She laid a trembling hand against his shoulder. "Guy, please! You
mustn't. I had to let you in. But not--not for this."
He uttered a low laugh that seemed to hold a note of triumph. But
he let her go.
"Of course you had to let me in! Were you asleep? Did I frighten
you?"
"You startled me just at first. I think the thunder had set me on
edge, for I wasn't asleep. It's such a--savage sort of night,
isn't it?"
Sylvia glanced forth again over the low _veldt_ where the
flickering lightning leaped from cloud to cloud.
"Not so bad," said Guy.


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