She rose to her feet.
“I was not joking,” she said with horrible severity.
“Neither was I,” I declared in humble apology. “Didn’t you say blankets?’”
“Pamphlets.”
“Oh!”
There was a long pause. I glanced at Mrs. Hilary. Things had not fallen out as happily as they might, but I did not mean to give up yet.
“I see you’re right,” I said, still humbly. “To descend to such means as I had in my mind is—”
“To throw away our true weapons,” said she earnestly. (She sat down again—good sign.)
“What we really need—” I began.
“Is a reform of the upper classes,” said she.