CHAPTER XI
You cannot quarrel comfortably in the street, nor in the Tube, but a third-class railway carriage, if you have it to yourselves, offers every facility for recriminations.
Jane replied with chill venom to Lucilla's intense reproaches and assured her that she had only herself to thank.
"It is entirely owing to you," she said several times, "that this youthful jail-bird is coming to peck at our seed-cake. I should only have written to him, as I said. But I was obliged to make up for your—forgive me if I say rudeness."
"I believe you go out of your mind sometimes," Lucilla repeated more than once; "the things you do—the things you say!"
Jane replied.
Lucilla retorted.
And so on. You know the sort of thing?
But between London Bridge and New Cross, Jane suddenly laughed.
"Let's stop," she said. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. Let's kiss and be friends."
"And now you can laugh!" Lucilla complained.
"I can't help it. You know I can't help it. I never could keep on quarrelling—on and on, I mean. My temper's all you say it is, but it doesn't last, and then suddenly I can't help seeing how silly it all is, and then I laugh and say I'm sorry."
"You go on being hateful just as long as you like," said Lucilla hotly, "and when you're tired of it you expect the other person to be tired of it at exactly the same minute, and
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