Now that the unpleasant scene was over, he seemed anxious for her sympathy.
“I’m sorry this miserable business has occurred, but you understand, don’t you, that it’s been just as bad for me as for you?”
“Do you want me to apologize?” Sylvia demanded, in her brutal way.
“No, of course not. Only I thought perhaps you might have shown a little more appreciation of my feelings.”
“Ah, Philip, if you want that, you’ll have to let me really go wrong with Dorward.”
“Personally I consider that last remark of yours in very bad taste; but I know we have different standards of humor.”
Sylvia found Dorward in the church, engaged in an argument with Cassandra about the arrangement of the chrysanthemums for Michaelmas.
“I will not have them like this,” he was saying.
“But we always putts them fan-shaped like that.”
“Take them away,” he shouted, and, since Cassandra still hesitated, he flung the flowers all over the church.