He drew nearer her along the bench and said with his eyes hard upon her:
“I didn’t think you were the kind of woman to kiss a man you didn’t care for.”
He knew when he spoke the words they were foolish and jeopardized his cause, but his fury at her disdainful attitude forced them from him.
She turned pale and her nostrils quivered. He had given her a body blow. For a moment they sat side by side looking at each other like two enraged animals animated by equally violent if different passions.
“Thank you for saying that,” she said, when she could command her voice; “now I understand what your love for me means.”
She rose from the bench. He seized her hand and attempted to draw her back, saying:
“Mariposa, listen to me. You drive me distracted. You force me to say things like that to you, when you know that I’m mad with love for you. Listen—”
She tore her hand out of his grasp and ran across the space to the slope, calling wildly to Benito. The boy at last could feign deafness no longer and sat up on his heels in well-simulated surprise.
“Come, come,” she cried angrily. “Come at once. I want you.”
He rose, dusting his nether parts and shouting: