"Do you want to quarrel with me too?"
"I believe Mr. Loring had good reasons."
"You must believe what you like," said Mrs. Dennison, tearing her rose to pieces. "Yes, there was some more."
"What?" asked Adela, expecting to be told to mind her own business.
Mrs. Dennison flung away the rose and began to laugh.
"He found me holding Willie Ruston's hand and telling him I—liked Omofaga! That's all."
"Holding his hand!" exclaimed Adela, justifiably scandalised and hopelessly puzzled. "What did you do that for?"
"I don't know," said Mrs. Dennison. "It happened somehow as we were talking. We got interested, you know."
Adela's next question was also one at which it was possible to take offence; but she was careless now whether offence were taken or not.
"Are you and the children going to the seaside soon?"