She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. "You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. "We shall be obliged to force it. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion.
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