He was still under the spell of the riotous passion that her lustful response had aroused.

It had rushed over him like a great, resistless wave,--hot, delicious, tingling.

He had been amazed, bewildered by the unbelievable craving,--furious and uncontrolled,--which she revealed in her momentary surrender to the elemental.

The truth began to dawn upon him even before she spoke.

Could this be Ruth,--could this unbridled, voluptuous wanton who clung to him and smothered him with kisses be the pure, high-minded girl he had grown to love and revere?
She spoke, and then he knew that the consuming fire in his blood was unholy,--as unholy as the spark that set it ablaze.
"Damn you!" he whispered hoarsely,--but he did not put her away from him.