"Because I don't let anybody see my sketches."
"You'll let me."
"I won't!" She dashed at him, clutching his arm and hanging her weight on it. He shook himself free and raised the sketch-book high above her head. She jumped up, tearing at it, but his grip held.
He delighted in his power. He laughed.
"Give it me this instant," she said.
"Aha! She's got her little secrets, has she?"
"Yes. Yes. They're all there. You've no business to look at them."
He caracoled heavily, dodging her attack, enjoying the youthful violence of the struggle.
"Come," he said, "ask me nicely."
"Please, then. Please give it me."