"He will speak the 'word' now surely," she told herself. Between their heart-throbs she listened for it.
The "word" was not spoken.
Again she stemmed her hands against him, pressing them hard against his shoulders. "Let me go, Champney." She spoke with spirit.
The act of repulsion, the ring in her voice half angered him; at the same time it added fuel to desire.
"I will not let you go—you love me—tell me so—"
He waited for no reply but caught her close; the girl struggled in his arms. It was dawning on her undaunted spirit that this, which she was experiencing with Champney Googe, the man she loved with all her heart, was not love. Of a sudden, all that brave spirit rose in arms to ward off from herself any spoken humiliation to her womanhood, ay more, to prevent the man she loved from deepening his humiliation of himself in her presence.
"Let me go" she said, but despite her effort for control her voice trembled.
"You know I love you—why do you repel me so?"
"Let me go," she said again; this time her voice was firm, the tone peremptory; but she made no further struggle to free herself from his arms.—"Oh, what are you doing!"
"I am making the attempt to find out if you love me as I love you—"