Tom snatched her to his heart and held her in perfect surrender. She suddenly drew her arms from his neck, crying in dismay:
"No—no—I don't love you!"
The boy looked at her with a start and she went on quickly:
"I didn't mean to say it—I meant to say—I hate you!"
With a cry of pain she threw herself into his arms, clasping his neck and held him close.
His hand gently stroked the brown hair while he laughed:
"Well, if that's the way you hate—keep it up!"
With an effort she drew back:
"But I mustn't——"
"There!" he said, tenderly drawing her close again. "It's all right. It's no use to struggle. You're mine—mine, I tell you!"