"Oh, you're hurting my neck. What shall I do? I can't scream—think what it would mean!—you're hurting my neck!"
"You are hurting your own neck—stop it!"
He kissed her face, softly, her cheeks, her eyes, her chin.
"I've loved you so—don't—what's the use? Be sensible. My arms have starved for you so—do you think they're going to loosen now? Avice Milbrey—Avice Milbrey—Avice Milbrey!"
His arms tightened about her as he said the name over and over.
"That's poetry—it's all the poetry there is in the world. It's a verse I say over in the night. You can't understand it yet—it's too deep for you. It means I must have you—and the next verse means that you must have me—a poor man—be a poor man's wife—and all the other verses—millions of them—mean that I'll never give you up—and there's a lot more verses for you to write, when you understand—meaning that you'll never give me up—and there's one in the beginning means I'm going to carry you out and marry you to-night—now, do you understand?—right off—this very night!"
"Oh! Oh! this is so terrible! Oh, it's so awful!"
Her voice broke, and he felt her body quiver with sobs. Her face was pitifully convulsed, and tears welled in her eyes.
"Let me go—let—me—go!"
He released her head, but still held her closely to him. Her sobs had become uncontrollable.