‘You hurt my wrist,’ she said.
‘I’ll break your wrist, my darling,’ he said, quietly, ‘if you don’t give me that bottle.’
Kitty wrenched her hand away, and rose to her feet.
‘Sooner than that, I’ll throw it away,’ she said, and before he could stop her, she flung the bottle out on to the lawn, where it fell down near the trees.
‘Bah! I will find it,’ he said, springing to his feet, but Kitty was too quick for him.
‘M. Vandeloup,’ she said aloud, so that everyone could hear; ‘kindly take me back to the ball-room, will you, to finish our valse.’
Vandeloup would have refused, but she had his arm, and as everyone was looking at him, he could not refuse without being guilty of marked discourtesy. Kitty had beaten him with his own weapons, so, with a half-admiring glance at her, he took her back to the ball-room, where the waltz was just ending.
‘At all events,’ he said in her ear, as they went smoothly gliding round the room, ‘you won’t be able to do any mischief with it now to yourself or to anyone else.’
‘Won’t I?’ she retorted quickly; ‘I have some more at home.’
‘The deuce!’ he ejaculated.