'You'll do nothing of the kind. It isn't fair play,' he said.
'It's not you that's going in, is it?' asked Peggy, as though that disposed of his claim to interfere. 'And you needn't tell me I'm dishonourable any more. It's dull. I'm going.'
In fact she had got to the handle of the door. She had grasped it when Tommy came and took hold of her arm.
'No, you don't!' he said.
For an instant Peggy thought that she would take offense. Tommy's rigidity of moral principle, within the limits of his vision, proved, however, too much for her. She still held the handle, but she leant against the door, laughing as she looked up in his face.
'Let go, Tommy! In short, unhand me!'
'Will you go, if I do?'
'That's what I want you to do it for,' Peggy explained, with a rapid and pronounced gravity.
Her eyes sparkled at him, her lips were mischievous, the waves of her hair seemed dowered with new grace. Perhaps there was something, too, in the general atmosphere of the flat that night. Anyhow the thought of vindicating moral principles and the code of honour lost the first place in Tommy's thoughts. Yet he did not let go of his prisoner.