"Not that tone to me," said he. "I
shall kiss you when I please."
She was furiously angry; but again her nerves were trembling, were
responding to those caresses, and even as she hated him for
violating her lips, she longed for him to continue to violate
them. She started up. "Let us go," she cried.
He glanced at his watch. "I'll have to put you in a car," said he.
"I forgot all about my appointment." And he fumed with impatience
while she was adjusting her hat and veil pushed awry by his
boisterous love-making. "It's the same old story," he went on.
"Woman weakens man. You are a weakness with me--one that will
cost me dear."
She burned with a sense of insult. She hated him, longed to pour
out denunciations, to tell him just what she thought of him. She
felt a contempt for herself deeper than her revulsion against him.
In silence she let him hurry her along to a car; she scarcely
heard what he was saying--his tactless, angry outburst against
himself and her for his tardiness at that important appointment.
She dropped into the seat with a gasp of relief. She felt she
must--for form's sake--merely for form's sake--glance out of the
window for the farewell he would be certain to expect; she must do
her part, now that she had committed herself.
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