“I hate you!” she cried.

Coming from the brilliant light of the noonday sun into the semidarkness of the cave I could not see her features, and I was rather glad, for I disliked to think of the hate that I should have read there.

I never said a word to her at first.  I just strode across the cave and grasped her by the wrists, and when she struggled, I put my arm around her so as to pinion her hands to her sides.  She fought like a tigress, but I took my free hand and pushed her head back—­I imagine that I had suddenly turned brute, that I had gone back a thousand million years, and was again a veritable cave man taking my mate by force—­and then I kissed that beautiful mouth again and again.

“Dian,” I cried, shaking her roughly, “I love you.  Can’t you understand that I love you?  That I love you better than all else in this world or my own?  That I am going to have you?  That love like mine cannot be denied?”

I noticed that she lay very still in my arms now, and as my eyes became accustomed to the light I saw that she was smiling—­a very contented, happy smile.  I was thunderstruck.  Then I realized that, very gently, she was trying to disengage her arms, and I loosened my grip upon them so that she could do so.  Slowly they came up and stole about my neck, and then she drew my lips down to hers once more and held them there for a long time.  At last she spoke.

“Why didn’t you do this at first, David?  I have been waiting so long.”

“What!” I cried.  “You said that you hated me!”

“Did you expect me to run into your arms, and say that I loved you before I knew that you loved me?” she asked.

“But I have told you right along that I love you,” I said.  “Love speaks in acts,” she replied.  “You could have made your mouth say what you wished it to say, but just now when you came and took me in your arms your heart spoke to mine in the language that a woman’s heart understands.  What a silly man you are, David?”

“Then you haven’t hated me at all, Dian?” I asked.

“I have loved you always,” she whispered, “from the first moment that I saw you, although I did not know it until that time you struck down Hooja the Sly One, and then spurned me.”

“But I didn’t spurn you, dear,” I cried.  “I didn’t know your ways—­I doubt if I do now.  It seems incredible that you could have reviled me so, and yet have cared for me all the time.”

“You might have known,” she said, “when I did not run away from you that it was not hate which chained me to you.  While you were battling with Jubal, I could have run to the edge of the forest, and when I learned the outcome of the combat it would have been a simple thing to have eluded you and returned to my own people.”

“But Jubal’s brothers—­and cousins—­” I reminded her, “how about them?”

She smiled, and hid her face on my shoulder.

“I had to tell you something, David,” she whispered.  “I must needs have some excuse for remaining near you.”