He
felt, too, the tingle of a new excitement in his veins. It was a
pleasurable sensation, something which he did not pause to analyze
just at present. Only he knew that it was because she had told him
as plainly as she could that Bram had not harmed her.
"And if he HAD I guess you'd have let me smash his brains out when
he was bending over the stove, wouldn't you?" he said, stirring
the mess of desiccated potato he was warming in one of his kit-
pans. He looked up to see her eyes shining at him, and her lips
parted. She was delightfully pretty. He knew that every nerve in
her body was straining to understand him. Her braid had slipped
over her shoulder. It was as thick as his wrist, and partly
undone. He had never dreamed that a woman's hair could hold such
soft warm fires of velvety gold. Suddenly he straightened himself
and tapped his chest, an inspiring thought leaping into his head.
"I am Philip Raine," he said. "Philip Raine--Philip Raine--Philip
Raine--"
He repeated the name over and over again, pointing each time to
himself.
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