Showdown [antikvár]

She was standing close to him and, her arms about his neck, she was looking deeply and seriously into his eyes. "Oh, darling," she whispered. "To hell with pretenses. I suppose I could get frightened at a fish or something and throw myself into your arms for protection. But do I have to?" Suddenly she broke away from him, let her feet down and pushed her way up the sand bar until the water was just above her waist. Facing him, she threw her arms out wide. "Look at me," she challenged, her head high. "Don't you want me? Don't you want me at all?"