Some color surged into Ruth's face. She realized now, that she did not
want to lose the position--that it meant much to her. It meant at least
her independence from her father, that she could support herself without
depending upon the money he gained from his guilty practices. It meant,
too, that the additional disgrace of being summarily dismissed would not
descend upon her.

Impulsively, she took Warden's hand. She looked inquiringly at him
though, when he gripped it tightly, and the color that had come into her
face fled, leaving it pale, when Warden continued to hold the hand,
gripping it so hard that she could not withdraw it. She looked intently
at him, over the few feet of space that was between them, noting the
queer light in his eyes--a glow of passion; watching the crimson tide
that rose above his collar, staining his face darkly.

For the driving desire that had seized Warden had conquered him.
Physical contact with the girl had brought his passions to life again.
They had overwhelmed him, had sent his grain skittering back into those
dead and gone periods when man's desires surmounted laws.

Warden no longer considered the risks whose ghosts had haunted him on
his ride to the Hamlin cabin; his fears had been swallowed by the
oblivion of mental irresponsibility. He had only the vivid knowledge
that he was alone in the cabin with the girl.

"But there are people in Willets who are determined that you shall go,"
he said. "I can keep you on the job in spite of them, my dear--and I'll
do it. But there are certain conditions--certain----"