'You've got to choose!' cried the girls.

'Come on!' cried Annie, looking him in the eye.' Come on! Come on!'

He went forward, rather vaguely. She had taken off her belt, and swinging
it, she fetched him a sharp blow over the head with the buckle end. He
sprang and seized her. But immediately the other girls rushed upon him,
pulling and tearing and beating him. Their blood was now thoroughly up.
He was their sport now. They were going to have their own back, out of
him. Strange, wild creatures, they hung on him and rushed at him to bear
him down. His tunic was torn right up the back, Nora had hold at the back
of his collar, and was actually strangling him. Luckily the button burst.
He struggled in a wild frenzy of fury and terror, almost mad terror. His
tunic was simply torn off his back, his shirt-sleeves were torn away, his
arms were naked. The girls rushed at him, clenched their hands on him and
pulled at him: or they rushed at him and pushed him, butted him with all
their might: or they struck him wild blows. He ducked and cringed and
struck sideways. They became more intense.

At last he was down. They rushed on him, kneeling on him. He had neither
breath nor strength to move. His face was bleeding with a long scratch,
his brow was bruised.

Annie knelt on him, the other girls knelt and hung on to him. Their faces
were flushed, their hair wild, their eyes were all glittering strangely.
He lay at last quite still, with face averted, as an animal lies when it
is defeated and at the mercy of the captor. Sometimes his eye glanced
back at the wild faces of the girls. His breast rose heavily, his wrists
were torn.