“I say, you know, you are a brick!” And Freda chimed in:
“Rather!”
Ashurst saw Stella looking down; he got up in confusion, and went to the window. From there he heard Sabina mutter: “I say, let's swear blood bond. Where's your knife, Freda?” and out of the corner of his eye could see each of them solemnly prick herself, squeeze out a drop of blood and dabble on a bit of paper. He turned and made for the door.
“Don't be a stoat! Come back!” His arms were seized; imprisoned between the little girls he was brought back to the table. On it lay a piece of paper with an effigy drawn in blood, and the three names Stella Halliday, Sabina Halliday, Freda Halliday—also in blood, running towards it like the rays of a star. Sabina said:
“That's you. We shall have to kiss you, you know.”
And Freda echoed:
“Oh! Blow—Yes!”
Before Ashurst could escape, some wettish hair dangled against his face, something like a bite descended on his nose, he felt his left arm pinched, and other teeth softly searching his cheek. Then he was released, and Freda said:
“Now, Stella.”
Ashurst, red and rigid, looked across the table at a red and rigid Stella. Sabina giggled; Freda cried: