"Let me go, Harry."
"Kiss me."
"No." She struggled in his arms, but he only held her the more closely. "Moira. I want you. You're mine. You belong to me by every law——"
"No—no."
But he mastered her, pressing her throat back and kissing her upon the lips. She lay quiet in his arms, weak from the struggle. He took her immobility for acquiescence and caught her more tightly in his arms.
"Let me go," she gasped. "Do you hear?"
A saner man would have caught the warning note. But Harry Horton was beyond warnings. She fought with renewed strength and then, all else failing, struck him full in the face with her clenched fist.
His arms relaxed in astonishment and she sprang away, putting a small table between them.
Breathing rapidly, she saw him put his fingers to his cheek and then look at them in a bewildered way.
"I see," she heard him muttering to himself, "so that's the way of it——"