world meant nothing to him. It was like waking up and finding a burglar in the house, a burglar who knew no law but force.
So she wheeled slowly about, with her head up, watching him. There was a blaze like something perilously close to hate in her slightly widened eyes, for she knew, now, what lay ahead of her. Instinct, in one flash, told her what lurked beside her path. And her inability to escape it, to confront it with what it ought to be confronted with, was maddening.
"You Hun!" she said in a passionate small moan of misery which he mistook for terror. "Oh, you Hun!"
He could afford to smile down at her, fortified by her loss of fortitude, warm with the winy ichors of mastery.
"You adorable kid!" he cried out, catching the hand which she reached out to the window-frame to steady herself with.
"Don't touch me!" she called out in a choking squeak of anger. And this time, as he swung her about, he laughed openly.
