argument that would weigh with her.

She sighed as who makes a concession. "Oh yes, it's pretty!" And then,
to his perplexity, her face fell into complete repose. She was absorbed
in the red beauty in his glass.

It angered him, yet he still felt bland and coaxing. "You'll have a
glass?"

"No, thank you."

"You'll surely have a taste?"

"Ah, no--"

"Just a drop...."

Their eyes met. He was peering into her face so that he could be sure
she was looking at him, and somehow the grimace seemed to be promising
her infinite pleasure.

She muttered, "Well, just a drop!" and found herself laughing unhappily.

He passed her his glass.

"But what," she asked in dismay, "will you drink from?"

Almost irritably he clicked his tongue, though he still smiled. "Drink
it up! Drink it up!"