The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. “But you must forgive me, John. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Within ten minutes he had read much more than had greeted his eye. All the influences about her worked with her own predisposition and against all the traditions of her home and upbringing to deal with the facts of life in an unabashed manner. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose.
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