"You have had enough, for this time," she said, blushing.
He looked at her, flushed and eager. Her beauty and warmth had done their work.
"Just one more!" he exclaimed, and took it, mightily, as his prehistoric ancestor might have done....
She straightened her hair, and brushed away the powder he had left upon her shoulder.
"Really, Mr. Maynadier, you must not," she protested. "My gown will be in tatters with such handling. Where did you learn to kiss so—peremptorily?"
"One does it, naturally, with you—and prays for more."
"Prays!" she laughed. "A robber does not pray—he takes.—No, sir! you have had sufficient. You——...."
She escaped from him, at last, and stood, rosy and panting, a little way off.
"Now, I shall have to go to my room—my gown and my hair are a sight—oh! you are wicked—wicked!" she ended—and fled, leaving behind her a vision of slender ankles and silk stockings.
Maynadier looked after her with a dubious smile.