"My poor wrists!" she murmured.
Askew wheeled from the mirror, shied, and winced; but his mouth and eyebrows were still three straight lines.
"My poor wrists!" reiterated the temptress, moving towards her pre-historic man; "see--you have bruised them."
He could see that he had; they were under his eyes, under his very nose, but he threw aside his head, with the modern equivalent of a word which a cave-man might have used in some such plight. Adam was weakened into aggressive firmness.
Eve offered a more tempting apple. "If you really loved me"--tears emphasised the murmur.
"Leah--darling!"
He was again in the toils, and kissing the bruised skin madly, with feverish lips. "How could I be so cruel?" he mumbled, and slipped to her victorious feet. "Oh! oh! oh!" in three distinct keys. "Forgive."
"If you will promise not to leave me," she whispered tenderly.
"Never! never! never! never!" a kiss on alternate hands for each word.
Circe's magic having evoked the brute, she knew thoroughly the sort of animal she had to deal with. Considering that she had no feeling of love, or even pity, to create fervour, Leah acted admirably. Cooing like a mother over her babe, and with a seraphic look, she bent above the tame animal, less to caress him than to make sure that the halter was round his neck.