“No use,” I said fiercely. “I am strong, and a brute perhaps, and I am going to use my strength to rob your lips. They have insulted me often enough to deserve that toll. Scream if you like. It can hurt no one but yourself. Why did you think I made that remark about Johnny Dando? I myself hardly knew at the moment; but now I know. I was jealous--wickedly, horribly jealous. I had no right to be, I own--no right to think at all of you. But I do, Ira--I can’t help it; no more can you. I think of you, I am thinking of you now, in a way that would make you blush if you knew. Be quiet; it is useless your struggling. I want just that much of you--your mouth, and I intend to have it. Then I will let you go, and you can punish me as you like. Only this one thing you will never be able to say again--that your lips are virgin lips to the man who shall come to court and win you. You had better say nothing about it to him. That will be always the secret between you and me, Ira; and I will promise for my part to hold it inviolate.” Something in the word, perhaps, drove me beyond myself. I bent my face down towards hers. She had lain all this time like a wounded fawn in my arms, her eyes closed, her lips a little parted, the breath fluttering in her tender side. Now suddenly, to my wonderment, she looked up at me with a wistful smile. “Richard,” she said, “you do not want me to die, do you? I thought I was going to; and then you came, and I could have cried with delight. I was so cold, and I had lost myself, and my heart seemed to fly out to your warmth and strength; and I thought, He is going to help me, though I have been so foolish; and suddenly I felt quite safe and happy.” The madness died down in me, like a flame on which fragrant spices have been thrown. I seemed to myself to gasp for breath. She had seen me coming to her in her peril, and had felt safe. “No, Ira,” I said, in a low choking voice, “I do not want you to die.” “Then why do you threaten me with this killing shame?” “I must have some of you. I never knew my own mad need until this moment.” “Are you in love with me, Richard?” “Yes. Now you mention it, I suppose that’s it.” “And do you want to shame the thing you love?” “No, Ira, if you would only love me too a little. Will you?” She gave a thread of a smile. “How can I help it, if it is to save myself?” I gathered her furiously to my breast, and rose to my feet, holding her so. My arms were crushed about her; I set my teeth, snarling, to the demons of the storm. Let death and hate try to come to conclusions with me for this my possession. Not a breath should enter to despoil her, if I knew her really for my own. I looked with wonder once more into her face. The very veins in it were things to love like flowers; the snowflakes crisped upon her hair; her eyes were closed again, and happily, it seemed to me. “My God!” I said. “It can’t be true--it can’t. Answer me, Ira. Are you not offended?” “I don’t think so, Richard.”