But at the touch of his lips upon her neck she shivered.

There was something sensual in that touch that revolted her--in spite of herself.
"Ralph," she said, and her voice quivered a little, "I think you must say good-bye to me.

I am tired to-night.

If I don't rest, I shall never be ready for to-morrow." He made an inarticulate sound that in some fashion expressed what the drawing of his lips had made her feel.

"Sweetheart--to-morrow!" he said, and kissed her again with a lingering persistence that to her overwrought nerves had in it something that was almost unendurable.