The Land of Promise: A Comedy in Four Acts (1922)

He gave a short laugh, half of amused admiration at her daring, and half of anger.

'That was a darned silly thing to do!'

'What did you expect?'

'I expected that you were cleverer than to hit me. You ought to know that when it comes to--to muscle, I guess I've got the bulge on you.'

'I'm not frightened of you.'

It was a stupid thing to say. Nora realized it too late. If she had only been able to hold her tongue, he might have relented, she thought. But at her words, his face hardened once more and the same steely glitter came into his eyes. 'Now come and wash up these things.'

'I won't, I tell you!'

'Come on.'

Quickly grasping her by the wrists, he began to drag her slowly but steadily to the table. Earlier in the evening she had boasted that she was as strong as a horse. As a matter of fact, she had unusual strength for a woman. But she was quickly made to realize that her strength, even intensified as it was by her anger was, of course, nothing compared with his. Strain and resist as she might, she could neither release herself from his grasp nor prevent him from forcing her nearer and nearer to the table which was his goal. In the struggle one of the large shell hair pins which she wore fell to the floor. In another second she heard it ground to pieces under his heel. A long strand of hair came billowing down below her waist.

Another moment, and by making a long arm, he could reach the table. With a quick movement for which she was unprepared, he brought her two hands sharply together so that he could hold both of her wrists with one hand, leaving the other free.

'Let me go, let me go!'

She kicked him, first on one shin and then on the other. But their bodies were too close together for the blows to have any force.

'Come on now, my girl. What's the good of making a darned fuss about it.' His laugh was boyish in its exultant good-nature.

'You brute, how dare you touch me! You'll never force me to do anything. Let go! Let go! Let go!'

And now, his free hand held fast the edge of the table. With a quick movement she bent down and fastened her teeth in the skin of the back of his hand. With an exclamation of pain, he released her, carrying his wounded hand instinctively to his mouth.

'Gee, what sharp teeth you've got!'

'You cad! you cad!' she panted.

'I never thought you'd bite,' he said, looking at his bleeding hand ruefully. 'That ain't much like a lady, according to my idea.'

'You filthy cad! To hit a woman!'

'Gee, I didn't hit you. You smacked my face and kicked my shins, and you bit my hand. And now you say I hit you.'

He picked up his pipe from the table and mechanically rammed the tobacco down with his thumb and looked about for a match.

'You beast! I hate you!'

In the height of her passion she unconsciously began twisting up the loosened strand of her hair.

'I don't care about that, so long as you wash them cups.'

With a furious gesture she swept the table clean.

'Look!' she screamed, as cups, saucers, plates and teapot broke into a thousand pieces at his feet.

There came another little sound of something breaking, like a faint echo far away. It was his pipe which had fallen among the wreckage. In his astonishment at her sudden action, he had bitten through the mouthpiece.

'That's a pity; we're terribly short of crockery. We shall have to drink our tea out of cans now,' was all he said.