Samuel Sprink, excited by the dance and, it must be confessed, by an unusual devotion to the beer keg that evening, was still retaining his hold of Irma, and was making determined efforts to kiss her.
"Let me go!" cried the girl, struggling to free herself.

"You must not touch me! Let me go!" "Oh, come now, little one," said Samuel pleasantly, "don't be so mighty stiff about it.

One kiss and I let you go." "That's right, Samuel, my boy," shouted Rosenblatt; "she only wants coaxing just a little mucher." Rosenblatt's words were followed by a chorus of encouraging cheers, for Samuel was not unpopular among the men, and none could see any good reason why a girl should object to be kissed, especially by such a man as Samuel, who was already so prosperous and who had such bright prospects for the future.
But Irma continued to struggle, till Kalman, running to her side, cried, "Let my sister go!" "Go away, Kalman.

I am not hurting your sister.

It's only fun.
Go away," said Sprink.
"She does not think it fun," said the boy quietly.