With an animal cry she leapt on him, and began smothering him with short, vigorous kisses, to which he had no time to respond. It was funny—she was a stranger, yet kissed so hard! He held her firmly for a moment, held her immovable, and was silent awhile, himself motionless—held her as though he too felt the strength of quiescence, the strength of a woman, as his own strength. And the woman, joyously, obediently, became limp in his arms.
»So be it!« he said, with an imperceptible sigh.
The woman bestirred herself anew, burning in the savagery of her joy as in a fire. Her movements filled the room, as if she were not one but a score of half-witted women who spoke, stirred, went to and fro, kissed him. She plied him with cognac, and drank more herself. Then a sudden recollection seized her; she clasped her hands.
»But the revolver—we forgot that! Give it to me—quick, quick! I must take it to the office.«
»Why?«
»Oh, I'm scared of the thing! Would it go off at once?«
He smiled, and repeated:
»Would it go off at once? Yes, it would. At once!«
He took out his revolver, and, deliberately weighing in his hand that silent and obedient weapon, gave it to the girl. He also handed her the cartridge clips.
»Take them!«