She hitched sidewise in her chair, dipped her forefinger into her fresh glass, snapped it at him so that he blinked under the tiny spray.
"That for you!" she said, giggling. She was now repeatedly catching herself up from a too constant impulse to repeat that giggle.
"You little devil!" he said, reaching back for his handkerchief.
She dipped again, this time deeper, and aimed straighter.
"Quit!" he said, catching her wrist and bending over it. "Quit it, or I'll bite!"
"Ow! Ouch!"
Her mouth still resolute not to loosen, she jerked back from him. There was only the high flush which she could not control, and the gaze, heavy lidded, was not so sure as it might have been. She was quietly, rather pleasantly, dizzy.
"I wish—" she said. "I—wi-ish—"
"What do you wi-ish?"
"Oh, I—I dunno what I wish!"