"Jerry!"
His hands had caught the two sides of the flimsy shirt-waist at the breast and torn it aside, off her shoulders, off her arms.
"Have pity, Jerry," she whimpered.
"'Have pity, Jerry,' she whimpered."
"Pity, yes," he laughed wildly. "Kiss me. You want to be kissed. I'll kill you with kissing. Death like this—such a death—!"
She struggled more furiously, struck, kissed and struck again. But Jerry's madness triumphed—her own.
At this point Jerry hid his face in his hands, trembling violently.