“‘That’ll do, now, Rawdon, don’t come making a scene. There’s nothing to make a scene about.’
“‘But you’ll not sulk me?’ he said.
“‘I’ll not sulk you, why should I?’
“‘Then give me a kiss, for peace.’
“‘Let me be, Rawdon.’
“She was troubled, now that her anger had passed. I would have walked on, but for the dry, fevered fingers gripping my wrist.
“A new idea had taken possession of Rawdon’s mind; his eyes glowed in the noble, architectural carving of his face, that so belied the coarseness of his nature.
“‘I’m your cousin, Ruth!’ he cried satirically.
“He caught her by the shoulder and turned her towards him. I thought she would have struggled, and indeed I saw the preparatory tautening of her frame; then to my astonishment she yielded suddenly, flexible and abandoned, and he kissed her regardless of my presence; kissed her ferociously, and pushed her from him.
“‘I’ll see you to-morrow?’ he asked.