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"Why, sweetheart, what is this?" Levasseur moved towards her. She
recoiled before him. There was a smile on his face, a glitter in
his eyes that fetched her heart into her throat.
He caught her, as she reached the uttermost limits of the cabin,
seized her in his long arms and pulled her to him.
"No, no!" she panted.
"Yes, yes," he mocked her, and his mockery was the most terrible
thing of all. He crushed her to him brutally, deliberately hurtful
because she resisted, and kissed her whilst she writhed in his
embrace. Then, his passion mounting, he grew angry and stripped
off the last rag of hero's mask that still may have hung upon his
face. "Little fool, did you not hear your brother say that you
are in my power? Remember it, and remember that of your own free
will you came. I am not the man with whom a woman can play fast
and loose. So get sense, my girl, and accept what you have invited."
He kissed her again, almost contemptuously, and flung her off.
"No more scowls," he said. "You'll be sorry else."
Some one knocked.


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