She drew her hand back and looked coldly at him.
He was staggered, and said: “Well, Ciss!”
“Well,” she said, “what do you want here?”
Will stepped forward, and tried to put his arm round her to take a kiss. She thrust him from her impatiently.
For a moment he stood motionless, then he burst forth: “It was you—you who snatched me out of the water.”
“You are mistaken, it was Jacob Finch. I stood by. I would have done that for any one.”
Will became white as chalk; then almost in fury, as if he would have torn her, he cried: “Ciss! you be cruel to me and to yourself. I don’t care, say yes or no, fight or bite if you will, mine you shall be, or I will carry you in these arms and throw you and myself together over the cliff into the sea.”
He seized her in his strong arms, clasped her to his heart, and covered her face with kisses.
So, in a paroxysm of fury, was this courtship done.