"I shall do nothing of the sort!" declared Evelyn loftily. "Instead, you can fine me any amount you please for contempt of court. You doubtless will enjoy doing it! As for the kodak, you can give it back to Alphonse. I shall never touch it again!"
"Miss, you are ungrateful," Sarah reproved her, "and the young man wounded in the fracas!"
"Wounded!" cried Evelyn, in dismay.
"Oh," disclaimed Scarlett, who was shaking his fingers as if to cast a pain from them, "it's nothing. Only in protecting the Count's beauty from an irate populace I gave my wrist a twist."
"Oh, a sprained wrist is nothing to boast of," derided Miss Durant.
"That's why I wasn't boasting of it." Scarlett turned to go.
"Nevertheless"—Evelyn put a detaining hand lightly on his arm—"I took a course in First Aid to the Injured to fit myself for this life, and I know that a sprain ought to be treated with something, for fear something or other should set in. Sarah," she asked in a whisper, "what treatment does one give a sprain?"
"Fermentation," prompted the maid, sagaciously.
"That's it: fomentation! Please, Sarah, go fetch me—whatever one needs for fomentation."
"Believe me, it is not necessary." Scarlett gave his hand another shake. "It soon will be all right."