She belongs to things about which you"-- And there the girl checked herself, aware of something almost ludicrously pitiful in the smug tearful countenance and stumpy would-be fashionable figure.

Hit a man your own size, or bigger, by all means if you are game to take the consequences.

But to smite a creature conspicuously your inferior in fortune--past, present, and prospective--is unchivalrous, not to say downright mean-spirited.

So Damaris, swiftly repentant, put her arm round the heaving shoulders, bent her handsome young head and kissed the uninvitingly dabby cheek--a caress surely counting to her for righteousness.
"Don't find fault with me any more, Billy," she said.

"Indeed I never hurt you on purpose.