He dropped the sifter into the bowl and his hand closed firmly over the one that now rested on its yellow rim.
"Oh, see what you've done!" cried she. "You have spilled all that flour into the cake."
"No matter." His eyes were on hers.
"But it does matter. Willie's cake will be spoiled."
She tried vainly to draw away from the grip that imprisoned her.
"Please let me go."
He bent across the table until he could almost feel the blood beating in her cheeks.
"Say it once more," he pleaded.
Again her hand fluttered in his strong grasp.
"Please!"