"Oh, you'd kiss me to shut my lips?"
"Yes, I would."
"Fine, Mel. Come on. But you'd have to keep steadily busy all evening. For I've come to talk." Mel came closer to him, with a catch in her breathing, a loving radiance in her eyes. "Daren, you're strange—not like your old self. You're too gay—too happy. Oh, I'd be glad if you were sincere. But you have something on your mind."
Lane knew when to unmask a battery.
"No, it's in my pocket," he flashed, and with a quick motion he tore out the marriage license and thrust it upon her. As her dark eyes took in the meaning of the paper, and her expression changed, Lane gazed down upon her with a commingling of emotions.
"Oh, Daren—No—No!" she cried, in a wildness of amaze and pain.
Then Lane clasped her close, with a force too sudden to be gentle, and with his free hand he lifted her face.
"Look here. Look at me," he said sternly. "Every time you say no or shake your head—I'll do this."
And he kissed her twice, as he had upon his entrance.
Mel raised her head and gazed up at him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, as if both appalled and enthralled.