“Don’t touch me again, Maudlin Bates.... I don’t interfere with you. I’ll—I’ll––” 156
But Maudlin paid no heed to her insistence. He was dragging the strap from her shoulders.
Jinnie’s face grew waxen white, but she held her own for a few minutes. Maudlin was big in proportion to her slenderness, and in another instant her shortwood lay on the ground, and she was standing panting before him.
“Now, then, just to show what kind of a feller I be,” said he, “I’m goin’ to kiss you.”
Jinnie felt cold chills running up and down her back.
“It’s time you was kissed,” went on Maudlin, “and after to-day I’m goin’ to be your man.... You can bet on that.”
He was slowly forcing her backward along the narrow path that led into the marshes. Jinnie knew intuitively he wanted her to turn and run into the underbrush that he might have her alone in the great waste place.
Like a mad creature, she fought every step of the way, Maudlin’s anger rising at each cry the girl emitted.
“I’ll tell my uncle,” she screamed, with sobbing breath.
“You won’t want to tell ’im when I get done with you,” muttered the man. “Why don’t you run? You c’n run, can’t you?”