The Flaming Forest
by
James Oliver Curwood
Part 5 out of 5
"I mean--always--that I am second, unless you will ever let me be
first," corrected St. Pierre, kissing the hand that was gently
stroking his cheek.
And then he leaned his great head back against her where she stood
behind him, and Carmin's fingers ran where his hair was crisp with
the singe of fire, and for a long time they said no other word,
but let their eyes rest upon the dim length of the hall at the far
end of which was David Carrigan's room.
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