CHAPTER XXV
Gray was shocked at the change in Ma Briskow. She had failedsurprisingly. Pleasure lit her face, and she fell into a brief flutterof delight at seeing him; but as soon as their first greeting was overhe led her to her lounge and insisted upon making her comfortable. Hehad tricks with cushions and pillows, so he declared; they became hisobedient servants, and there was a knack in arranging them--the sameknack that a robin uses in building its nest. This he demonstratedquite conclusively.
It was nice to have a great, masterful man like this take charge ofone, and Ma sighed gratefully as she lay back. "It does kinda feel likea bird's nest," she declared. "And you kinda look like a robin, too;you're allus dressed so neat."
"Exactly," he chuckled. "Robins are the very neatest dressers of allthe birds. But look! Like a real robin, I've brought spring with me."He opened a huge box of long-stemmed roses and held their cool, dewybuds against Ma Briskow's withered face, then, laughing and chatting,he arranged them in vases where she could see them. Next, he drew downthe shades, shutting out the dreary afternoon, after which he lit thegas log, and soon the room, whether by reason of his glowingpersonality or his deft rearrangement of its contents, or both, becamea warm and cheerful place.
He had brought other gifts than flowers, too; thoughtful, expensivethings that fairly took Ma's breath. No one had ever given herpresents; to be remembered, therefore, with useless, delightful littleluxuries filled her gentle soul with a guilty rapture.
But these were not gifts in the ordinary sense; they were offeringsfrom the Duke of Dallas, and his manner of presenting them investedevery article with ducal dignity. The Princess Pensacola had not playedfor a long time, and so to recline languidly in a beautiful Japanesekimono, with her feet in a pair of wonderful soft boudoir slippers spunby the duke's private silkworms and knit by his own oriental knittingslaves, while he paid court to her, was doubly thrilling.
The duke certainly was a reckless spender, but thank goodness he hadn'tbought things for the house--things just to _look_ at and to share withother people! He knew enough to buy intimate things, things a womancould wear and feel rich in. Ma hugged herself and tried to lookbeautiful.
Gray was seated on the side of her couch with her cold hand between hiswarm palms, and he was telling her about the princess of Wichita Fallswhen the summons to dinner interrupted them.
Ma was not hungry, and she had expected to have a bite in her own room;but her caller was so vigorous in his objections to this plan that shefinally agreed to come downstairs.
The Briskow household was poorly organized as yet, and it was onlynatural that it should function imperfectly; nevertheless, Gray wasannoyed at the clumsy manner in which the dinner was served. Being ameticulous man and accustomed to comfort, incompetent servantsdistressed him beyond measure, and he soon discovered that the Briskowhelp was as completely incompetent as any he had ever seen. The butler,for instance, a pleasant-faced colored man, had evidently come straightfrom the docks, for he passed the food much as a stoker passes coal toa boiler, while the sound of a crashing platter in the butler's pantrygave evidence that the second girl was a house wrecker.
"See here, Ma!" Gray threw down his napkin. "You have a beautiful home,and you want it to be perfect, don't you?"
"Why, of Course. We bought everything we' could buy--"
"Everything except skillful servants, and they are hard to find. Youare capable of training your cook and teaching your upstairs girl tosweep and make beds; but the test of a well-run house is a well-servedmeal. Dish-breaking ought to be a felony, and when I become President Ipropose to make the spoiling of food a capital offense. Now then,you're not eating a bite, anyhow, and Gus won't mind waiting awhile forhis dinner. With your permission, I'd like to take things in hand andadd a hundred per cent to your future comfort?"
In some bewilderment Ma agreed that she would do anything her guestsuggested, whereupon he rose energetically and called the threedomestics into the dining room.
"We are going to start this dinner all over again," he announced, "andwe are going to begin by swapping places. I am going to serve it as adinner should be served, and you are going to eat it as--Well, I daresay nature will have to take its course. I shall explain, as I goalong, and I want you to remember every word I say, every move I make.Mr. and Mrs. Briskow are going to look on. After we have finished youare going to serve us exactly as I served you."
Naturally, this proposition amazed the "help"; in fact, its absurdityconvulsed them. The man laughed loudly; the cook buried her ebony facein her apron; the second girl bent double with mirth. Here was a quaintgentleman, indeed, and a great joker. But the gentleman was not joking.On the contrary, he brought this levity to an abrupt end, then,gravely, ceremoniously, he seated the trio. They sobered quickly enoughat this; they became, in fact, as funereal as three crows; but theirastonishment at what followed was no greater than that of the Briskows.
Gray played butler with a correctness and a poise deeply impressive tohis round-eyed audience, and as he served the courses he delivered alecture upon the etiquette of domestic service, the art of cooking, andthe various niceties of a servant's calling. Nothing could have beenmore impressive than being waited upon by a person of his magnificence,and his lecture, moreover, was delivered in a way that droveunderstanding into their thick heads.
It was an uncomfortable experience for all except Gray himself--heactually enjoyed it--and when the last dish had been removed, and hehad given instructions to serve the meal over again exactly as he hadserved it, the three negroes were glad to obey. Of course they mademistakes, but these Gray instantly corrected, and the results of hisdress rehearsal were, on the whole, surprising.
"There!" he said, when the ordeal had finally come to an end. "A littlepatience, a little practice, and you'll be proud of them. Incidentally,I have saved you a fortune in dishes."
"I wish Allie'd been here. She'd remember everything you said," Madeclared.
"Lord! Think of Mr. Gray waitin' on them niggers!" Gus was still deeplyshocked.
"You see what a meddlesome busybody I am," the guest laughed. "I don'tknow how to mind my own business, and the one luxury I enjoy most ofall is regulating other people's affairs." He was still talking, stilllecturing his hearers upon the obligations prosperity had put uponthem, when he was summoned to the telephone by a long-distance call. Hereturned in some agitation to announce: "Well, at last I have businessof my own to attend."
"Was that Buddy talkin'?"
"It was, and he gave me some good news. He says that well onthirty-five is liable to come in at any minute, and it looks like a bigone." The speaker's eyes were glowing, and he ran on, breathlessly, "Hesays they're betting it will do better than ten thousand barrels!"
"_Ten thousand bar'ls!_" Briskow echoed.
"That's what he said. Of course, they can't tell a thing about it.Buddy's only guessing, but--I haven't had a big well yet." Gray took anervous turn about the room.
"Ten thousand barrels! Lord! That would help. That would do the trick.And to think that it should come now, this very day--" He laughedtriumphantly and ran on as if talking to himself: "'The wicked arefatted for destruction. Their happiness shall pass away like atorrent.' Pull out and leave me, eh?" A second time he laughed, moreloudly. "Luck? It isn't luck, it's Destiny. The mills of the Gods aregrinding. Ma Briskow, the fairy ladies danced upon the hearth when Iwas born. Do you know what that means?"
"Ten thousand bar'ls a day, an' you buttlin' for three niggers!" gaspedthe head of the house.
"I'm going out on to-night's train and see it come in--if it does comein. I told Buddy to stop work; not to drop another tool until Iarrived. 'Fatted for destruction.' I like the sound of that. Tenthousand barrels! Ho! I'll write this day in brass. Why, that leasewill sell for a million. It--it may mean the end."
Gray brought himself to with an effort, hastily he kissed Ma Briskow'sfaded cheek and wrung her husband's hand. A moment later he was gone.
"Thirty-five," wh
ere Buddy was working, was only a few miles from theBriskow ranch, therefore the boy was able to meet his sister at Rangerand drive her directly to the old home. The place was much the same aswhen they had left it, thanks to the watchful attention of the men incharge of the Briskow wells, and there they spent the night. Buddy andhis sister had always been close confidants, and their long separation,their varied experiences, left many things to be discussed.
The ranch house seemed very mean, very insignificant to Allie, but sheslipped into one of her old dresses and prepared the supper while Buddystraddled a kitchen chair and chattered upon ten thousand topics ofmutual interest.
"Doggone!" he exclaimed, finally. "I hardly knew you when you steppedoff that train, but it seems like old times now, with you hustlin'around in that gingham."
"I wish it was."
"Hunh?"
"I wish, sometimes, that we'd never struck oil."
"Good Lord! Why?"
"Oh"--Allie turned her back and bent over the stove--"for lots ofreasons! Ma never had a sick day till lately. Now she's failin' fast."Buddy frowned at this intelligence. "And Pa's as restless as asquirrel. All the time scared of losing his money."
"Well, _you_ got no kick coming, sis. You've sure made good."
"How?"
"I dunno--You've got rich ways. An' rich _looks_, too!"
Allie lifted an interested face, and her brother undertook, somewhatawkwardly, to tell her wherein she had improved. She listened withgreedy delight, but when he had finished she shook her head skepticallyand declared: "It sounds nice, and God knows I've tried hard enough,but-there's a difference, Bud. We're 'trash' and always will be."
Of course young Briskow's mind was full of business, and he could notlong stay off that absorbing topic. When, during their supper, heannounced the fact that the well on thirty-five showed signs of comingin shortly, and that he intended to send for Calvin Gray, Allie changedher mind about returning home and decided to wait over until the latterarrived.
She and Buddy talked until a late hour that night, but although she wasdying to have him tell her about his romance, his dream of love, henever so much as referred to it, and she could not bring herself todisregard his reticence. Nor could she bear to discuss with him theproblem that lay nearest her own heart. She had brooded long over thatproblem, and her soul was hungry to share its bitter secret;nevertheless, she could not do so, for it is often easier to bare ourwounds to strangers than to those we love. If her breedings, herbitterness of spirit manifested themselves, it was in a fixed undertoneof pessimism and in an occasional outburst of recklessness thatbewildered her brother.
On the morning of Gray's coming she rode with Buddy over tothirty-five. It was a wretched, rainy day, and nothing is more bleakthan a rainy day in a drilling camp. Work had been halted and the menwere loafing in their bunk house. Brother and sister spent theimpatient hours in the mess tent. As usual, they talked a good dealabout Calvin Gray.
"Funny, him comin' here a stranger, an' gettin' to run our wholefamily, ain't it?" Buddy said.
Allie nodded. "Funnier thing than that is your working for him." Buddywas surprised, so she asked him: "Aren't you sore at him for--what hedid? For breaking up that affair?" It was a question that had been uponher lips more than once; she could not credit her brother with entiresincerity when he answered, frankly enough:
"Sore? Not the least bit."
"Didn't you--care for her?"
"Why, sure. I was all tore up, at first. But he did me the biggest kindof a favor."
Allie shook her head uncomprehendingly. "Men are queer things. You_must_ have loved her, for a while."
"I reckon I did, if you're a mind to call it that. But he says thatsort of thing ain't real love."
"'_He says_'!" the girl cried, scornfully. "My God, Buddy! Would youlet _him_ tell you--? Is he pickin' out women for you like he picks outa dress for me and a hotel for Ma? How does _he_ know what's the realthing?"
"She was a--grafter," the brother explained, with a flush ofembarrassment. "She'd of probably took my money an' quit me cold."
"Bah!" The girl rose and, with somber defiance in her smoldering eyes,stared out at the desolate day. "You'd have had her for a while,wouldn't you? You'd have lived while it lasted. What's the differenceif she was a grafter? D'you think you're going to fall in love andmarry a duchess, or something? I wish I'd had your chance, that's all."
"What d'you mean by that?" Buddy queried, sharply.
"I mean this," Allie flamed at him. "We're nobodies and we've gotnothing but our money. A counterfeit is as good as ever we'll get--andit's as good as we're entitled to. I'd rather know what it is to livefor an hour than to go on forever just pretending to live. If I've gotto be unhappy, then give me something to be unhappy over; something tolook back on. I'd rather be--But, pshaw! You don't understand. Youcouldn't."
"I dunno what's got into you lately," Buddy declared, with a frown.
"Nothing's got into me. Only, what's the use of starving when theworld's full of good things and you've got the price to buy them? _I_won't do it. If ever I get my chance, you watch me!"
Gray's trip from the railroad was more like a voyage than a motorjourney, for the creek beds, usually dry, were angry torrents, and the'dobe flats were quagmires through which his vehicle plowed hub deep;nevertheless, he was fresh and alert when he arrived. After a buoyantgreeting to Allie, he and Buddy inspected the well, then he issuedorders for work to be resumed.
"We're gettin' close to something," young Briskow declared. "She'smaking gas an' rumblin' like she'd let go any minute. We got reservoysbuilt an' the boiler's moved back, so we can douse the fire when shestarts. I figger she'll drownd us out."
"What are the indications at Nelson's well?" Gray turned his eyes inthe direction of a derrick on the adjoining property, the top of whichshowed over the mesquite.
"Nothin' extra. They won't tell us anything, but they're deeper 'n weare."
"How do you know?"
Buddy winked wisely. "We counted the layers of cable on the bull-wheeldrum. Checked up their casing, too, an' watched their cuttin's. Theygot their eye on us, too, an' they'll be over when we blow in."
That was an anxious afternoon, for as the drill bit deeper into therock it provoked indications of a terrific force imprisoned far below.To the observers it seemed as if that sharp-edged tool was tap-tappingupon the thin shell of some vast reservoir already leaking and chargedto the bursting point with a mighty pressure. An odor of gas escapedfrom the casing mouth, occasionally there came hoarse, throatygurglings of the thick liquid at the bottom of the well. The bailer wasrun frequently.
Word had gone forth that there was something doing on thirty-five, andfrom the chaparral emerged muddy motor cars bringing scouts,neighboring lease owners, and even the members of a near-by casing crew.
Supper was a jumpy meal, and nobody had much to say, Allie Briskowleast of all. She was silent, intense; she curtly refused Buddy's offerto send her home, and when the meal was over she followed Gray back tothe derrick. He was on edge, of course. It seemed to him that everyblow of that bit was struck upon his naked nerves, for he had a deepconviction that this was to prove the night of his life, and the strainof waiting was becoming onerous. This well meant so much. Ten thousandbarrels, fifteen, five--even one thousand; it mattered little how heavythe flow, for a good-paying well would see him through his immediatetroubles. And this was a well of some sort, or else indications meantnothing and everybody was greatly mistaken. Of course, a big well,something to create a furor--that was what he needed, for that not onlywould bridge his financial crisis, but also it would mean a frenzy ofquick drilling, new wells crowded close together, hundreds of thousandsof dollars poured into the earth, and the Nelsons couldn't stand that.It would break them--break them, and he would taste the full sweetnessof revenge. Oh, he had waited long! Nor was that all. Once he had HenryNelson down, and his foot on the fellow's throat, he'd have somethingto say to Barbara Parker. He could say it then and look her in t
heeyes. He wished she was here to-night while he stood on the top of theworld. Ten thousand barrels! Twenty thousand! Twenty-thousand-barrelgushers were not unknown. A well like that would mean a fortune everyday. But why didn't it start?
They were bailing again and curiosity drew the owner in upon thederrick floor. This time the flow might begin; at any moment now oilmight come with the water. There is some danger in standing close to awell during this bailing process, but Gray was like a bit of iron inthe field of a magnet; spellbound, he watched the cable as it ransmoothly off the drum, flowed up over the crown block and down into thecasing mouth. That heavy, torpedolike weight on the end of the line wasdropping almost half a mile. Up it came swiftly, as if greased; up, up,until it emerged into the glare of the incandescent overhead and hungthere dripping. It was swung aside and lowered, and out gushed itsmuddy contents.
Water! Black and thick as molasses, but water nevertheless.
Buddy Briskow was running the rig, and the dexterity with which hehandled brake and control rod gave him pride. He had seated his sisteron a bench out of the way, where she was protected from the drizzle,and he felt her eyes upon him. It gave him a sense of importance tohave Allie watching him at such a crisis; he wished his parents werewith her. If this well blew in big, as it seemed bound to do, it wouldbe a personal triumph, for not many cub drillers could boast ofbringing in a gusher the first time. It was, in fact, no meanaccomplishment to make any sort of a well; to pierce the earth with anabsolutely vertical shaft a half mile deep and line it with tons upontons of heavy casing joined air-tight and fitted to a hair's breadthwas an engineering feat in itself. It was something that only an oilman could appreciate. And he was an oil man; a darn good one, too, soBuddy told himself.
He eased the brake and the massive bailer slid into the casing as aheavy shell slips into the breech of a cannon. As he further releasedhis pressure, the cable began to pour serpentlike from the drum. Buddyturned his wet, grimy face and flashed a grin at Allie. She smiled backat him faintly. Some lightninglike change in her expression, or perhapssome occult sense of the untoward warned him that all was not as itshould be, and he jerked his head back to attention.
There are moments of catastrophe when for a brief interval natureslows, time stops, and we are carried in suspense. Such an instantBuddy Briskow experienced now. He knew at first glance what hadhappened, and a frightened cry burst from his throat, but it was a crytoo short, too hoarse, to serve as a warning.
During that moment of inattention the bailer had stuck. Perhaps fivehundred feet below, friction had checked its plunge, and meanwhile thevelvet-running drum, spinning at its maximum velocity by reason of thewhirling bull wheel, was unreeling its cable down upon the derrickplatform. Down it poured in giant loops, and within those coils, eitherunconscious of his danger or paralyzed by its suddenness, stood CalvinGray.
Men schooled in hazardous enterprises carry subconscious mentalphotographs of the perils with which their callings are invested andthey react involuntarily to them. Buddy had heard of drillersdecapitated by flying cables, of human bodies caught within those wireloops and cut in twain as if made of lard, for when a wedged toolresumes its downward plunge it straightens those coils above ground inthe twinkling of an eye. Instinct, rather than reason, warned Buddy notto check the blinding revolutions of the bull wheel. Without thought heleaped forward into the midst of those swiftly forming loops, and as helanded upon the slippery floor he clenched his fist and struck with allthe power he could put behind his massive arm. Gray's back was to him,the blow was like that of a walking beam, and it sent the elder manflying as a tenpin is hurled ahead of a bowling ball. Buddy fell, too.He went sprawling. As he slid across the muddy floor he felt the steelcable writhing under him like a thing alive, and the touch of it as itstreamed into the well burned his flesh. He kicked and fought it as hewould have fought the closing folds of a python, for the bailer wasfalling again and the wire loops were vanishing as the coils in awhiplash vanish during its flight.
Buddy's booted legs were thrown high, he was tossed aside like a thingof paper, but blind, half stunned, he scrambled back to his post. Bythis time the whole structure of the derrick was rocking to the madgyrations of the bull wheel; the giant spool was spinning with a speedthat threatened to send it flying, like the fragments of a burstingbomb, but the youth understood dimly the danger of stopping it toosuddenly--to fetch up that plunging weight at the cable end might snapthe line, collapse the derrick, "jim" the well. Buddy weaved dizzily inhis tracks; nevertheless, his hand was steady, and he applied agradually increasing pressure to the brake. Nor did he take his eyesfrom his task until the drum had ceased revolving and the runawaybailer hung motionless in the well.
When he finally looked about it seemed to him that he had lived a longtime and was very old. Gray lay motionless where he had fallen, and hisbody was twisted into a shockingly unnatural posture. He was bleeding.Allie Briskow was bending over him. Other dim, dreamlike figures wereswarming out of the gloom and into the radiance of the derrick lights;there was a far-away clamor of shouting voices. Buddy Briskow felthimself growing deathly sick.
They carried Gray to the bunk house, and his limbs hung loosely, hishead lolled in a manner terrifying to Buddy and his sister. As theystumbled along beside the group, the girl cried:
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" She repeated the cry over and over again in avoice strange to her brother's ears.
"It--it wasn't my fault," he told her, hoarsely. "I aimed to save him."
"You killed him!"
"He ain't--" Buddy choked and clung to her. "He's just stunned like. Heain't--that!" The youth was amazed when Allie turned and cursed himwith oaths that he himself seldom ventured to employ.
But Gray was not dead. Buddy's blow had well-nigh broken his neck, andhe had suffered a further injury to his head in falling; nevertheless,he responded to such medical aid as they could supply, and in time heopened his eyes. His gaze was dull, however, and for a long while helay in a sort of coma, quite as alarming as his former condition. Theybrought him to at last long enough to acquaint him with what hadhappened, and although it was plain that he understood their words onlydimly, he ordered the work resumed.
When for a second time he lapsed into semiconsciousness, it was AllieBriskow who put his orders into execution. "You ain't doing any goodstanding around staring at him and whispering. Bring in that well, asfast as ever you can, and bring it in _big_. Now, get out and leave himto me."
Buddy was the last to go. He inquired, miserably: "Honest, he ain'thurt bad, is he? You don't think--"
"Get out!"
"He won't--die? Ain't no chance of him doin' that, is there?"
"If he does, I'll--" The speaker's face was ashen, but her eyes blazed."I'll fix you, Buddy Briskow. I will, so help me God!"
It was late that night when the well came in. It came with a rush and aroar, drenching the derrick with a geyser of muddy water and drivingboth crew and spectators out into the gloom. Up, up the column rose,spraying itself into mist, and from its iron throat issued a soundunlike that of any other phenomenon. It was a hoarse, rumbling bellow,growing in volume and rising in pitch second by second until it finallyattained a shrieking crescendo. Ten thousand safety valves had let go,and they steadily gathered strength and shrillness as they functioned.A shocking sound it became, a sound that carried for miles, rocking theair and stunning the senses. It beat upon the eardrums, pierced them;men shouted at each other, but heard their own voices only faintly.
Calvin Gray had recovered his senses sufficiently to understand themeaning of that uproar, and he tried to get up, but Allie held him downupon his bed. She was still struggling with him when her brother burstinto the house, shouting:
"It's a gasser, Mr. Gray! Biggest I ever seen."
"Gas?" the latter mumbled, indistinctly. "Isn't there any--oil?" Hiswords were almost like a whisper because of the noise.
"Not yet. May be later. Say, she's a heller, ain't she? I'll bet she'smakin' twenty million f
eet--"
"Gasser's no good."
"Can't tell yet. We gotta shut her down easy so she don't blow thecasing out--run wild on us, understand?" Buddy was still breathless,but he plunged out the door and back into that sea of sound.
With a tragic intensity akin to wildness, Gray stared up into AllieBriskow's face. "Worthless, eh? And they told me ten thousand barrels."He carried a shaking hand to his bandaged head and tried vainly tocollect his wits. "What's matter?" he queried, thickly. "Everythingwhirling--sick--"
"You had an accident, but it's all right; all right--No, no! Please liestill."
"Running wild, eh? Tha's what hurts my head so. Blown the casingout--Bad, isn't it? Sometimes they run wild for weeks, years--ruineverything." He tried again to rise, then insisted, querulously: "Gotoget oil in this well! I've got to! Last chance, Allie. Got to get tenthousand barrels!"
"Please! You mustn't--" Allie had her strong hands upon his shoulders;she was arguing firmly but as gently as possible under thecircumstances, when something occurred so extraordinary, so unexpected,as to paralyze her. Of a sudden the interior of the dim-lit,canvas-roofed shack was illuminated as if by a searchlight, and sheturned her head to see that the whole out-of-doors was visible and thatthe night itself had turned into day.
With a cry that died weakly amid the chaos of sound beating over her,the girl ran to the window and looked out. What she beheld was anightmare scene. The well was afire. It had exploded into flame. Where,a moment before, it had been belching skyward an enormous stream ofgaseous vapor, all but invisible except at the casing head, now it wasa monstrous blow torch, the flaming crest of which was tossed a hundredfeet high. Nothing in the nature of a conflagration could have beenmore awe-inspiring, more confounding to the faculties than that roaringcolumn of consuming fire. It was a thing incredibly huge, incrediblyfurious, incredibly wild. Human figures, black against its glare, wereflying to safety, near-by silhouettes were flinging their arms aloftand dashing backward and forward; faces upturned to it were white andterrified. The scattered mesquite stood against the night like a wall,spotted with inky shadows, and, above, the heavens resembled a boilingcaldron.
It was a hellish picture; it remained indelibly fixed upon AllieBriskow's mind. As she looked on in horrid fascination, she saw thederrick change into a latticelike tower of flame, saw its upper partbegin slowly to crumble and disintegrate. The force with which the gasissued blew the blaze high and held it dancing, tumbling in mid-air, aphenomenon indescribably weird and impressive. The men who stoodnearest bent their heads and shielded their faces from the heat.
Allie tore her eyes away from the spectacle finally. She turned back tothe bed, then she halted, for it was empty. The door, still ajar fromBuddy's headlong exit, informed her whence her patient had gone, andshe flew after him.
She found him not half a dozen paces away. In fact, she stumbled overhis prostrate body. With an amazon's strength, she gathered him intoher arms, then staggered with him back to his couch, and as shestrained him to herself she loudly called his name. Amid that demoniacdin, amid the shrieking of those million devils, freed from the blackchasms of the rock, her voice was as feeble as the wail of a sick child.
When she had laid her inert burden upon the bed, Allie knelt and tookGray's head upon her bosom. Then, for the first time, those forcesimprisoned deep within her being ran wild, and under the red glare ofthat flaming geyser she kissed his hair, his eyes, his lips. Over andover again she kissed them with the hungry passion of a woman starved.