"You vile coward!" she panted, held close in his arms yet writhing to be free. "You miserable cur! You——"
"Why struggle so, Stephanie—no one saw," he whispered. She was but pretending.
She tore herself loose—only to be caught back again and crushed closer.
"Let me go!—Let me go!" she gasped frantically.
This was no pretense, and he realized it. He had thought it would be otherwise—had thought that she would be a yielding beauty—and the mistake angered him. He was not given to making mistakes. She had drawn him on—and now——
"You didn't struggle so with Pendleton on the porch at Criss-Cross," he said, kissing her again and again.... "Aren't mine just as sweet and worth as much as his?"
Once more she tore herself loose and sprang away—made a step—then stopped and faced him.
He had risen and was moving slowly after, a mocking smile on his lips.
"You will please take me back to the ball-room," she commanded. "I am not minded to provoke comment by returning alone."