Berserker, Spurlock rose, head down, and charged. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes.
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