"Let me alone."
"Let me destroy you, burn you down and build you up again."
They spoke hoarsely, in whispers; they were struggling now, forehead to forehead, like goats. Irene kept him at arm's length to prevent him from "clinching."
At first he had made an effort not to throw himself on her, feeling that for once this was not the right way. But from force of habit he let himself go.
In falling they sank on to the bed. An English bed, that is to say a bench made of stone. Irene tightened her limbs and crossed one foot over the other for safety.
"Let me alone."
Lewis knelt on her with all his weight; the fabric of Irene's chemise tore in his hand; their hearts beat together. Their faces were red from being rubbed together so much. Lewis held one of the girl's hands behind her back and kept the other motionless beneath her chin; hairpins rained; the blue ribbons of her chemise slid off her shoulders.
"Let me alone, you're killing me!"
She gave such a cry that he got up, a thing he had never done before for any woman.
"Forgive me," he said.