She did show a good deal of determination, and he desisted. But for the time being only. He called again and again. Then one night, when they had gone inside because of the mosquitoes, and when she had insisted that he must stop coming to see her, that his attentions were noticeable to others, and that she would be disgraced, he caught her, under desperate protest, in his arms. “Now, see here!” she exclaimed. “I told you! It’s silly! You mustn’t kiss me! How dare you! Oh! oh! oh!—” She broke away and ran up the near-by stairway to her room. Cowperwood followed her swiftly. As she pushed the door to he forced it open and recaptured her. He lifted her bodily from her feet and held her crosswise, lying in his arms. “Oh, how could you!” she exclaimed. “I will never speak to you any more. I will never let you come here any more if you don’t put me down this minute. Put me down!” “I’ll put you down, sweet,” he said. “I’ll take you down,” at the same time pulling her face to him and kissing her. He was very much aroused, excited. While she was twisting and protesting, he carried her down the stairs again into the living-room, and seated himself in the great armchair, still holding her tight in his arms. “Oh!” she sighed, falling limp on his shoulder when he refused to let her go. Then, because of the set determination of his face, some intense pull in him, she smiled. “How would I ever explain if I did marry you?” she asked, weakly. “Your father! Your mother!” “You don’t need to explain. I’ll do that. And you needn’t worry about my family. They won’t care.” “But mine,” she recoiled. “Don’t worry about yours. I’m not marrying your family. I’m marrying you. We have independent means.” She relapsed into additional protests; but he kissed her the more. There was a deadly persuasion to his caresses. Mr. Semple had never displayed any such fire. He aroused a force of feeling in her which had not previously been there. She was afraid of it and ashamed. “Will you marry me in a month?” he asked, cheerfully, when she paused. “You know I won’t!” she exclaimed, nervously. “The idea! Why do you ask?” “What difference does it make? We’re going to get married eventually.” He was thinking how attractive he could make her look in other surroundings. Neither she nor his family knew how to live. “Well, not in a month. Wait a little while. I will marry you after a while—after you see whether you want me.” He caught her tight. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Please stop. You hurt me.” “How about it? Two months?” “Certainly not.” “Three?” “Well, maybe.” “No maybe in that case. We marry.” “But you’re only a boy.” “Don’t worry about me. You’ll find out how much of a boy I am.” He seemed of a sudden to open up a new world to her, and she realized that she had never really lived before. This man represented something bigger and stronger than ever her husband had dreamed of. In his young way he was terrible, irresistible.