She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek.
It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be lost.
"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It can never be—listen."
It was terrific, to hold in check a nature such as his.
"I went into this scheme for—for money. I have it. We have raised nearly forty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand you have given me as my share."
She paused. He was paying no attention to her words. His whole self was centered on her face.
"With me," she continued, half wearily withdrawing her hand as she assumed the part she had decided on for herself, "with me, Ramon, love is dead—dead. I have seen too much of the world. Nothing has any fascination for me now except excitement, money—"
He gently leaned over and recovered the hand that she had withdrawn. Quickly he raised it to his lips as he had done that first night.
"You are mine," he whispered, "not his."
She did not withdraw the hand this time.