Glowing with color, Marian strove to release herself. "Let me go—let us leave this place, dear Thurston," she pleaded, attempting to rise.
"Why? Why are you in such a hurry? Why do you wish to leave me?" he asked, without releasing his hold.
"It is late! Dear Thurston, it is late," she said, in vague alarm.
"That does not matter—I am with you."
"They will be anxious about me, pray let us go! They will be so anxious!" she said, with increasing distress, trying to get away. "Thurston! Thurston! You distress me beyond measure," she exclaimed in great trouble.
But he stopped her breath with kisses.
Marian suddenly ceased to struggle, and by a strong effort of will she became perfectly calm. And looking in his eyes, with her clear, steady gaze, she said:
"Thurston, I have ceased to strive. But if you are a man of honor, you will release me."
His arms dropped from around her as if he had been struck dead.
Glad to be free, Marian arose to depart. Thurston sat still—his fine countenance overclouded with mortification and anger. Marian hesitated; she knew not how to proceed. He did not offer to rise and attend her. At length she spoke.