She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. He became a little less en garde. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. CHAPTER VIII. Beck, it smells wonderful in here.
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