He took the slim white hands into one of his own, and kissed them.
"There's no need for you to fight against me with weak little hands," he whispered. "There's another fighting for you, far stronger than you are. A new Raoul Le Breton of your making, Pansy. A man strong enough to wait until we're really married."
Laying his burden on a couch, he bent his head until his ear almost touched the girl's lips.
"Say 'Yes,' Pansy, and I'll go, 'nicely and quietly like a good boy,' still remembering 'your reputation,'" he said in a teasing tone.
Into his ear "Yes" trembled.
He kissed the lips that at last had consented to his wishes.
"Good night, my little girl, and if you go on at this rate you'll make a white man of me yet."
Long after he had gone Pansy stayed brooding on his words. The battle between them was over at last.