She pushed away the biscuit. "No. No. Mamma give Mary. Mark give
Mary."
"Drinky--winky," said Papa.
He put his glass to her shaking mouth. She turned her head away, and
he took it between his thumb and finger and turned it back again. Her
neck moved stiffly. Her head felt small and brittle under the weight
and pinch of the big hand. The smell and the sour, burning taste of
the wine made her cry.
"Don't tease Baby, Emilius," said Mamma.
"I never tease anybody."
He lifted her up. She could feel her body swell and tighten under the
bands and drawstrings of her clothes, as she struggled and choked,
straining against the immense clamp of his arms. When his wet red lips
pushed out between his beards to kiss her she kicked. Her toes drummed
against something stiff and thin that gave way and sprang out again
with a cracking and popping sound.
He put her on the floor. She stood there all by herself, crying, till
Mark came and took her by the hand.
"Naughty Baby. Naughty Mary," said Mamma. "Don't kiss her, Mark."
"No, Mamma."
He knelt on the floor beside her and smiled into her face and wiped it
with his pocket-handkerchief. She put out her mouth and kissed him and
stopped crying.
"Jenny must come," Mamma said, "and take Mary away."
"No. Mark take Mary."
"Let the little beast take her," said Papa. "If he does he shan't come
back again. Do you hear that, sir?"