"Did you tell?"
"No."
Noreen sat down on her bed.
"You're rather a young sport, Jocelyn. I say, it was rather a shame about the Lab; was the Professor a frightful beast about it?"
"He was rather; I think he needn't have been so bad considering the French and we are allies for evermore," Joey said.
"He's only French-Swiss; daresay he can't be as nice as pure French," Noreen suggested soothingly. "Anyhow, Ingrid has settled him up—she can tackle any professor born: you should see her with our literature prof: disagrees with him and that sort of thing. All the same, it was a mean shame to have you on about the Lab, Jocelyn; I was really rather sorry about it afterwards—only, you know, you were so uppish about the bath."
The shivers had practically subsided; Joey felt happier.
"I know; I shouldn't do that again."
"I don't blame you for getting something off us when you had the chance," Noreen observed, with an effort after fair play. "Good-night, Jocelyn: I hope you'll be all right now."