Nancy rose, torn between the desire to retreat, and to fling herself into those waiting arms. Glenn left her no choice. He seized her, roughly and masterfully, and held her close, pressing her against his body. His lips fastened upon hers. Nancy closed her eyes and shivered. She felt small and helpless, a leaf before the wind, and she was afraid.
"Nancy!" he whispered. "Nancy! You've got to marry me. We'll just have to risk it, degree or no degree! What's the use of waiting all our lives, maybe, when we love each other? When will you marry me, Nancy?"
She knew then that she had to tell him the truth, and she trembled.
"Glenn, I—I—" she stammered. Her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth.
"Soon? Say yes, Nancy! I'm crazy about you, don't you know that? Why don't you say when, Nancy?"
She felt desperate, as if some force were closing in upon her, relentlessly. She had to speak, and yet she couldn't. She tried to escape from the arms that held her, but they clasped her all the closer. His eager lips closed on hers.
"Nancy! Ah, darling, why not let everything go and marry me at once?"
Ah, why not, indeed? As if Peter Champneys had reached across the sea to divide her and Glenn, a stern voice answered Glenn's question.
"Because she has a husband already," it said harshly. Chalky white, with blazing eyes, Chadwick Champneys confronted Peter's wife in another man's arms. "She is married to my nephew, Peter Champneys. Is it possible you do not know?"
Glenn's arms dropped. Intuitively he moved away from her. His visage blanched, and he stared at her strangely.