His senses reeled for an instant,--and then Ruth Clinton went out of his thoughts entirely! "Damn you!" he cried again, and drew her close.

"She hates me,--she will always hate me," he was mumbling.

"Why should I care?
Why should I refuse to take--" Her lips were on his again, warm, firm, voluptuous, drawing his heart's blood with the resistless power of a magnet.
They did not hear the rapid approach of footsteps--heavy, swift as of one running.

A dark, panting figure raced past them, and then another but a few paces behind.
Percival's senses were released.

They cast off the bewitching bonds.