"Let me go!" she panted. "Let me go!"
But he only smiled. The perfume from her hair, the warmth of her body, the intoxication from her person were working their due. He was only a man—and she was only a woman.
He kissed her on the lips fiercely—once—twice—a score of times—straining her to him with an intensity that left her helpless.
"You coward!—you coward!—you coward!" she kept repeating.
And every time he kissed her more fiercely than the last.
Then, suddenly as he had seized her, he loosed her and stepped back—so suddenly, indeed, she swayed and almost fell.
"You beast! you miserable beast!" she breathed, wiping away his kisses.
He laughed, a low mocking laugh.
"Did you call Amherst a beast?" he asked.
"You miserable beast!" she repeated.