“Will nothing else do?” she cried at length, in desperation, her large eyes staring at him like those of a wild animal. This dressing her up so prettily by her mother had apparently been to lamentable purpose.
“Nothing, dear Tess,” he replied.
“Oh, I don’t know—very well; I don’t mind!” she panted miserably.
He drew rein, and as they slowed he was on the point of imprinting the desired salute, when, as if hardly yet aware of her own modesty, she dodged aside. His arms being occupied with the reins there was left him no power to prevent her manoeuvre.
“Now, damn it—I’ll break both our necks!” swore her capriciously passionate companion. “So you can go from your word like that, you young witch, can you?”
“Very well,” said Tess, “I’ll not move since you be so determined! But I—thought you would be kind to me, and protect me, as my kinsman!”
“Kinsman be hanged! Now!”
“But I don’t want anybody to kiss me, sir!” she implored, a big tear beginning to roll down her face, and the corners of her mouth trembling in her attempts not to cry. “And I wouldn’t ha’ come if I had known!”
He was inexorable, and she sat still, and d’Urberville gave her the kiss of mastery. No sooner had he done so than she flushed with shame, took out her handkerchief, and wiped the spot on her cheek that had been touched by his lips. His ardour was nettled at the sight, for the act on her part had been unconsciously done.
“You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl!” said the young man.
Tess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not quite comprehend the drift, unheeding the snub she had administered by her