stop and hurry away as if you hated me. Why? Why?" she cried with quivering lips, "What have I done to make you dislike me so?" and the tears gathered in her lovely eyes.
I felt the moment had come: I put my hands on her shoulders and looked with my whole soul into her eyes: "Did you never guess, Kate, that it might be love, not hate?" I asked.
"No, no!" she cried, the tears falling, "love doesn't act like that!"
"Fear to miss love does, I can assure you", I cried, "I thought at first that you disliked me and already I had begun to care for you", (my arms went round her waist and I drew her to me) "to love you and want you. Kiss me, dear" and at once she gave me her lips while my hand got busy on her breasts and then went down of itself to her sex. Suddenly she looked at me gaily, brightly while heaving a big sigh of relief. "I'm glad, glad!" she said, "if you only knew how hurt I was and how I tortured myself; one moment I was angry, then I was sad. Yesterday I made up my mind to speak, but today I said to myself, I'll just be obstinate and cold as he is and now"—and of her own accord she put her arms round my neck and kissed me, "you are a dear, dear! Anyway, I love you!"
"You mustn't give me those bird-pecks!" I exclaimed, "those are not kisses: I want your lips to open and cling to mine" and I kissed her while my tongue darted into her mouth and I stroked her sex gently. She flushed, but at first didn't understand, then suddenly she blushed rosy red as her lips grew hot and she fairly ran from the room.
I exulted: I knew I had won: I must be very quiet and reserved and the bird would come to the lure; I felt exultingly certain!
