He laughed and leant over her chair, so that their faces were on a level. The expression in his eyes startled her. She jerked back her chair quickly and stood up, but immediately his hand slipped to her arm and held her. "Do you know," he said, "I think you are a little afraid of me." "Let me go--please!" She was thoroughly alarmed now. The old uneasiness gripped her. She experienced again the sensation of being trapped. And his eyes frightened her. They held hers with strangely compelling force, and there was a look in them such as she had never seen in a man's eyes before--such as she had never imagined human eyes could express. "I wish you--wouldn't look at me--like that." The grip on her arm tightened. He drew her close to him, and his other hand came to rest on her shoulder, slipped round her shoulders and held her. "Look into my eyes," he said. "Don't be frightened. There is nothing to be frightened about." "Oh, please!" said Prudence, near to tears. "Let me go." "In a minute," he returned softly. "I've something to say first. You shy child, what are you afraid of? I've a great affection for you. You are the dearest, sweetest little girl I have met for many a long year. I want to be friends--now and for ever. And I'm going to seal the compact right here." Swiftly with the words his clasp of her became vicelike. It was useless for Prudence to struggle against him. Her resistance served only to strengthen his resolve. He crushed her to him, set his lips to hers, and kissed her--kissed her with a passion that was as a flame which burned into her soul. Then he released her; and she fell back with a gasp of anger, her face white, her eyes ablaze with rage and mortification. She leaned with her clenched hand upon the tablecloth, panting and inarticulate. He turned to give her time to recover, picked his cap up from a chair, and faced round again deliberately. "I couldn't help it," he said; "you were so sweet. I've been wanting to do that all the time. Don't look so tragic. I won't offend again." "How dare you?" she breathed; and with difficulty he forced back the smile that threatened to break over his features. That was exactly what he had expected her to say, what he had known she would say, as soon as she found any voice to speak with. "I don't know," he said. "Upon my soul, I don't know how it happened. I'm sorry--to have annoyed you. I'm not sorry about anything else. I had to kiss you." "I want," Prudence said, with a faint sob in her voice, "to go home." "You aren't angry with me?" he said, and became suddenly humble. "You aren't going to punish me? I'm really ashamed of my roughness. Forgive me. Say you forgive me. I will not offend again. Please..." "I will never willingly speak to you again," Prudence said. "If I had any means at all of getting back without you I wouldn't drive with you now. Please don't say any more. Let us start at once."