"Beginning how, pray?"
"By tearing that frock off your back, unless you have your maid in right away."
"You wouldn't dare!" she said, scoffing at him.
That was the worst word she could have chosen. To dare Franklin to do a thing was to guarantee that it was done. With the blood in his head he laid instant hands on her and ripped the chiffon from one soft white shoulder.
There was an inarticulate cry, a brief, breathless struggle, and the next instant he received a blow on the face that made him see stars.
"You little tyrant!" he said, with a short laugh. "That's your spirit, is it?"
He made for her again, angrier than he had ever been in his life. But she darted away like a beautiful fish, and with her round shoulder gleaming in the moonlight stood close to an open window, her breasts rising and falling, her nostrils distended, her eyes like two great stars, her face as white as the feathers of a white dove.
"Touch me again and I'll jump out of this window!"
"I don't believe you," he said, but remained standing.
"I swear to God I will!"