“None of that！” said Digory in a voice even nastier than he meant it to be； for he saw Polly’s hand moving to her pocket to get hold of her yellow ring. I can‘t excuse what he did next except by saying that he was very sorry for it afterwards （and so were a good many other people）. Before Polly’s hand reached her pocket， he grabbed her wrist， leaning across with his back against her chest. Then， keeping her other arm out of the way with his other elbow， he leaned forward， picked up the hammer， and struck the golden bell a light， smart tap. Then he let her go and they fell apart staring at each other and breathing hard. Polly was just beginning to cry， not with fear， and not even because he had hurt her wrist quite badly， but with furious anger. Within two seconds， however， they had something to think about that drove their own quarrels quite out of their minds.
