They were quite near Amzi's gate, and there was need for urgency. The thought of her mother gave him an angry throb; very likely she was waiting for them.
"You don't mean that, Phil! I can't have it that way."
"I do mean just that. So please don't say any more about it; we won't either of us be happier for talking about it."
"That's not square, Phil. You knew it was bound to come to this. You let me go on believing, hoping—"
"If you think such things of me, I shall be sorry I ever saw you."
"I've offered you a way out for yourself; your happiness is at stake. You must get away from here. Let us get married now—to-night, and leave this place forever, Phil!"
"No!" she cried angrily, frightened now as he stopped and planted himself before her at the edge of Amzi's lawn, where the house loomed darkly against the stars.
He gripped her arms. In all her rough play with boys, none had ever dared to touch her, and she choked with wrath. He had taken her off guard. Her hands, thrust into her muff, were imprisoned there by his grasp of her arms.
"Phil, you can't leave me like this. You've got to say yes. I'll kill myself if you don't."
She tried to wrench herself free, but his anger had slipped its leash and was running away with him. He drew her toward him, and the brute in him roused at her nearness. He threw an arm round her suddenly, and bent to kiss her. Abruptly she flung him back, wrenched her arms free and seized his wrists. Her fear left her on the instant; she was as strong or stronger than he, and she held him away from her easily, breathing deeply, and wondering just how to dispose of him. She laughed mockingly as he struggled, confident in the security of her greater strength. The light from Amzi's gate-lamp fell upon them, and she peered into his face curiously. At other times the spectacle of a gentleman in a silk hat held at ease by a young woman in her best evening bonnet would have been amusing, but Phil was thoroughly angry.