Page 380 - sons-and-lovers

‘Shonna!’ she replied, turning away her head.
He took a draw at his cigarette, and pursed up his mouth,
and put his lips close to her. His dark-brown cropped mous-
tache stood out like a brush. She looked at the puckered
crimson lips, then suddenly snatched the cigarette from his
fingers and darted away. He, leaping after her, seized the
comb from her back hair. She turned, threw the cigarette at
him. He picked it up, put it in his mouth, and sat down.
‘Nuisance!’ she cried. ‘Give me my comb!’
She was afraid that her hair, specially done for him,
would come down. She stood with her hands to her head.
He hid the comb between his knees.
‘I’ve non got it,’ he said.
The cigarette trembled between his lips with laughter as
he spoke.
‘Liar!’ she said.
‘S true as I’m here!’ he laughed, showing his hands.
‘You brazen imp!’ she exclaimed, rushing and scuffling
for the comb, which he had under his knees. As she wres-
tled with him, pulling at his smooth, tight-covered knees,
he laughed till he lay back on the sofa shaking with laugh-
ter. The cigarette fell from his mouth almost singeing his
throat. Under his delicate tan the blood flushed up, and he
laughed till his blue eyes were blinded, his throat swollen
almost to choking. Then he sat up. Beatrice was putting in
her comb.
‘Tha tickled me, Beat,’ he said thickly.
Like a flash her small white hand went out and smacked
his face. He started up, glaring at her. They stared at each