But he had only to take her in his
arms, to crush down her struggle with his enormous strength, to subdue
her, conquer her by sheer brute force, and she gave up in an instant.
But why--why had she done so? Why did she feel the desire, the necessity
of being conquered by a superior strength? Why did it please her? Why
had it suddenly thrilled her from head to foot with a quick, terrifying
gust of passion, the like of which she had never known? Never at his
best had Marcus made her feel like that, and yet she had always thought
she cared for Cousin Mark more than for any one else.
When McTeague had all at once caught her in his huge arms, something
had leaped to life in her--something that had hitherto lain dormant,
something strong and overpowering. It frightened her now as she thought
of it, this second self that had wakened within her, and that shouted
and clamored for recognition. And yet, was it to be feared? Was it
something to be ashamed of? Was it not, after all, natural, clean,
spontaneous? Trina knew that she was a pure girl; knew that this sudden
commotion within her carried with it no suggestion of vice.
Dimly, as figures seen in a waking dream, these ideas floated through
Trina's mind.
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