He made a movement to take her by the arm, but she was too quick for him. With the quickness of a cat, she slipped aside. The next moment, to his astonishment, he felt a stinging blow on the ear. He stared at her dumbfounded. It is safe to hazard that never in his life had he been so utterly taken aback.
She met his stare without lowering her glance. But she was panting now as if she had been running, one clenched hand pressed against her heaving breast.
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.
"I said I wouldn't wash them, and I haven't washed them," Nora exulted.
"They don't need it now, I guess," he said humorously.
"I think I've won!"
"Sure," he said without the slightest trace of rancor. "Now take the broom and sweep up all the darned mess you've made."
"I won't!"
"Look here, my girl," he said threateningly, "I guess I've had about enough of your nonsense: you do as you're told and look sharp about it."
"You can kill me, if you like!"
"What would be the good of that? Women, as you reminded me a little while back, are scarce in Manitoba."
He gave a searching look around the room and spying the broom in the corner, went over and fetched it.
"Here's the broom."
"If you want that mess swept up, you can sweep it up yourself."
"Look here, you make me tired!"
His tone suggested that he was becoming more irritated. But Nora was beyond caring. As he put the broom in her hand, she flung it from her as far as she could. "Look here," he said again, and this time there was no mistaking the menace in his voice, "if you don't clean up that mess at once, I'll give you the biggest hiding you ever had in your life, I promise you that."
"You?" she jeered.
"Yours truly," he said, nodding his head. "I've done with larking now." He began rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. For some obscure reason--possibly because his deliberation seemed to connote implacability--this simple action filled her with a terror that she had not known before even in the midst of their physical struggle.
"Help! Help! Help!" she screamed.
She rushed across the room and threw open the door, sending her agonized appeal out into the night.
"Help! Help! Help!"
She strained her ears for any sign of response.
"What's the good of that? There's no one within a mile of us. Listen."
It is doubtful if she heard his words. If she had, it would have mattered but little. The answering silence which engulfed her like a wave told her that she was lost. She bowed her head in her hands. Her whole slender body was wrecked with hard, dry sobs. When she lifted her head, he read in her eyes the anguish of the conquered. Nevertheless, she made one last stand.
"If you so much as touch me, I'll have you up for cruelty. There are laws to protect me."
"I don't care a curse for the laws," he laughed. "I know I'm going to be master here. And if I tell you to do a thing, you've darned well got to do it, because I can make you. Now stop this fooling. Pick up that crockery and get the broom."
"I won't!"
He made one stride toward her.
"No, don't. Don't hurt me!" she shrieked.
"I guess there's only one law here," he said. "And that's the law of the strongest. I don't know nothing about cities; perhaps men and women are equal there. But on the prairie, a man's the master because he's bigger and stronger than a woman."
"Frank!"
"Damn you, don't talk."
She did not move. Her eyes were on the ground. Pride and Fear were having their last struggle, and Fear conquered. Without looking at her husband she could feel that his patience was nearing an end. Very slowly she stooped down and picked up the teapot and the broken cups and saucers and laid them on the table. Blindly she tottered over to the rocking-chair and burst into a passion of tears.
"And I thought I knew what it was to be unhappy!"
He watched her with a slight, but not unkindly, smile on his face.
"Come on, my girl," he said, without any trace of anger, "don't shirk the rest of it."
Through her laced fingers, she looked at the mess of spilled tea on the floor. Keeping her tear-marred face turned away from him, she slowly got up, and slowly found the broom and swept it all into a little heap on the newspaper that lay where he had left it.
Suddenly she threw back her head. Her eyes shone with a new resolution. He watched her, wondering. With a quick, firm step, she carried the rolled-up paper to the stove and shoved it far into the glowing embers. Gathering up the crockery, after a glance around the room in search of some receptacle which her eye did not find, she carried it over to the wood-pile, laying it upon the logs. The broom was restored to its corner. She took up her hat and coat and began to put them on.