Greater physical contrast could hardly have been than that between him and Margaret, descending to him in the cool garden where he was mopping himself and dusting his shoes, all with the same handkerchief.  She was in a graceful walking costume of pale blue, scrupulously neat, perfect to the smallest detail.  As she advanced she observed him with eyes that nothing escaped; and being in one of her exquisite moods, when the senses are equally quick to welcome the agreeable or to shrink from the disagreeable, she had a sense of physical repugnance.  He saw her the instant she came out of the house.  Her dress, its harmony with her delicateness of feature and coloring, the gliding motion of her form combined to throw him instantly into a state of intoxication.  He rushed toward her; she halted, shivered, shrank.  “Don’t—­look at me like that!” she exclaimed half under her breath.

“And why not?  Aren’t you mine?” And he seized her, enwrapped her in his arms, pressed his lips firmly upon her hair, her cheek—­ upon her lips.  There he lingered; her eyes closed, her form, he felt, was yielding within his embrace as though she were about to faint.

“Don’t—­please,” she murmured, when he let her catch her breath.  “I—­I—­can’t bear it.”

“Do you love me?” he cried passionately.

“Let me go!” She struggled futilely in his plowman arms.

“Say you love me!”

“If you don’t let me go I shall hate you!”

“I see I shall have to kiss you until you do love me.”

“Yes—­yes—­whatever you wish me to say,” she cried, suddenly freeing herself by dodging most undignifiedly out of his arms.

She stood a little way from him, panting, as was he.  She frowned fiercely, then her eyes softened, became tender—­just why she could not have explained.  “What a dirty boy it is!” she said softly.  “Go into the house and ask Williams to take you where you can make yourself presentable.”

“Not I,” said he, dropping into a seat.  “Come, sit here beside me.”

She laughed; obeyed.  She even made several light passes at his wet mop of hair.  She wondered why it was that she liked to touch him, where a few minutes before she had shrunk from it.

“I’ve just been down telling that old grandmother of yours what I thought of her,” said he.

She startled.  “How did you happen to go there?” she exclaimed.  She forgot herself so completely that she added imperiously:  “I wanted you to keep away from her until I was ready for you to go.”

“She sent for me,” apologized he.  “I went.  We came together with a bang.  She told me I wanted to marry you; I told her you wanted to marry me.  She told me I was low; I told her she was a fraud.  She said I was insolent; I said good-afternoon.  If I hadn’t marched out rather quickly I guess she’d have had me thrown out.”

Margaret was sitting stone-still, her hands limp in her lap.