..."
"There! Take it! Take it! Oh...."
She shuddered away from him, her face went white again, she grew cold
with the fear upon her. Just then she cared infinitely little for the
sheaf of banknotes in the yellow envelope which the banker had given to
her. She jerked the parcel out from her dress and tossed it to him, her
fingers fumbling with the button of the thin garment under which her
heart was beating wildly. And the little "toy pistol" she could have
hurled from her, too. Against this physical bigness, against this
insolent bravado and this swift sureness of eye and muscle, she knew the
small weapon to be a ridiculous and utterly insufficient plaything.
He caught the envelope and thumbed it, tore off an end and glanced
swiftly at the contents and then stowed it away inside his grey flannel
shirt. Again his eyes came back to her.
"I'm in a hurry," he said swiftly. "But there's always time for a girl
like you!"
She had foreseen how it would be. Now that she struggled to draw her
tiny revolver and fire he was upon her, his long arms about her, his
muscular strength making her own as nothing. And though he was breathing
more quickly still he had his quiet insolent laugh for still further
insult.
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