"No——"
He held her in his arms while she struggled vainly to release herself. Her flushed face was now a little frightened and her large blue eyes stared in dismay at what she saw in his face.
"Let me go?" she whispered. "I didn't mean it——"
But he only held her closer while she struggled, as he kissed her—on the brows, the chin, the cheeks, and as she relaxed in sheer weakness—full on the lips—again—again.
"Do you think I haven't been trying to keep my hands off you all these weeks?" he whispered. "Do you think I haven't wanted you—to teach you what women were meant for? It's for this, Beth—and this. Do you think I haven't seen how lovely you are? Do you think I'm a saint—an anchorite? Well, I'm not. I'll make you love me—love me——"
Something in the reckless tones of his voice—in his very words aroused her to new struggles. "Oh, let me go," she gasped. "I don't love you. I won't. Let me go."
"You shall!"
"No. Let me loose or I—I'll despise you——"
"Beth!"
"I mean it. Let me go."