He kissed her face, her neck, her bosom, as if he would devour the sweetness of her in a few mad moments of utter abandonment.
But in a little he checked himself.

"You are so late, sweetheart.

The tide won't wait for us.

There will be time for this--afterwards." She lay burning and quivering against his heart.

"There is tomorrow," she whispered, clinging to him.
He kissed her again.