he dropped his pencil and flung himself flat upon the table,
protecting thus his literary efforts from chilling criticism by
the interposed thickness of his person. From somewhere in
his interior proceeded a heart rending compound of squeal and
whistle, as of escaping steam,--long-drawn, ear piercing,
unvarying in note.

"I only just want to see," protested Selina, struggling to uproot
his small body from the scrawl it guarded. But Harold clung
limpet-like to the table edge, and his shrill protest continued
to deafen humanity and to threaten even the serenities of
Olympus. The time seemed come for a demonstration in force.
Personally I cared little what soul-outpourings of Harold were
pirated by Selina--she was pretty sure to get hold of them sooner
or later--and indeed I rather welcomed the diversion as
favourable to the undisturbed pursuit of Art. But the
clannishness of sex has its unwritten laws. Boys, as such, are
sufficiently put upon, maltreated, trodden under, as it is.
Should they fail to hang together in perilous times, what
disasters, what ignominies, may not be looked for? Possibly even
an extinction of the tribe. I dropped my paint brush and sailed
shouting into the fray.

The result for a short space hung dubious. There is a period of
life when the difference of a year or two in age far outweighs
the minor advantage of sex. Then the gathers of Selina's frock
came away with a sound like the rattle of distant musketry; and
this calamity it was, rather than mere brute compulsion, that
quelled her indomitable spirit.