“You leave that cloak be!” he said, laughing despite himself.
“But now your sling’s off, you don’t need it.”
“Yes, I do. Let it be, please.”
But she unrolled it mischievously and a packet of letters fell out—her letters about the great horn.
“Well, didn’t I say men were silly!” she cried. “Fancy taking that to Australia.” And she made as if to hurl them towards the living-room fire.
“Give ’em to me!” He reached for them angrily, and that gave her an idea.
“But they’re mine!” Standing at the end of the box, which made a barrier between them, she held them mockingly just beyond his reach. He came forward, then perceiving one foot was right across the forbidden sill, he jerked himself back violently. Then balancing himself well on his soles, with a sudden swoop he curved his body forward to the utmost. It only resulted in his nearly falling athwart the open box. He recovered his balance and the perpendicular with some difficulty and no dignity.
“Take care!” she cried in almost hysterical gaiety. “You nearly crossed that time.”
“You give me my property!” he cried furiously.
“They’re as much mine as yours.”