"Say, but you're pretty!"
Springing up, he caught her hand and made to kiss her in the brashness of impulse. Minna struck him a stinging blow in the face. He received it as a mastiff would receive a bite from a pup, and she stood her ground, her eyes challenging his fearlessly.
"So you are like that!" he said thoughtfully. "It was a good one, and you meant it, too."
"Decidedly!" she answered. "There's more where that came from!"
"As I was telling the Grays this afternoon! Good for you!" He sat down again composedly, while she glared at him. "I'm still hungry. I've had wine enough; but would you cut me another slice of bread?"
She cut another slice and he covered it generously with jam. Then little Clarissa Eileen entered and pressed against her mother's skirts, subjecting Stransky to childhood's scrutiny. He waved a finger at her and grinned and drew his eyes together in a squint at the bridge of his nose, making a funny face that brought a laugh.
"Your child?" Stransky asked Minna.
"Yes."
"Where's her father? Away fighting?"
"I don't know where he is!"