Then she raised her sweet eyebrows.
“And you?” she said. “Supposing you hear someone bleating . . . and . . . and the flocking instinct once more asserts itself?”
Deliberately, Giles extinguished his cigarette.
“I shall put up a fight,” he said coolly, “the deuce of a fight. I shall stick in my elegant toes and put up a fight.”
Katharine leaned forward.
“And I,” she said slowly, with a dazzling smile, “shall do precisely the same.”
For a moment the two looked into each other’s eyes.
Then—
“I—I hope you’ll win,” said Giles uneasily. “I mean—I should like to think that ’Ard an’ Bright was the only serious rival Baladeuse ever had. Besides . . . I’m sure I shall win,” he added confidently. “You can bet your little boots about that. You know. The patent-leather ones I used to pull off after breakfast.”
Katharine rose to her feet.