"Oh, it was about my dancing with other people. He wanted me to dance at least every other dance with him, and I wouldn't. He was furious, and for the matter of that, so was I."
"Dorothy! You're never furious," said Lily incredulously.
She could not remember ever to have seen Dorothy otherwise than good-humoured and easy-going and light-hearted.
"Well, I was angry that time. I foamed."
Dorothy paused reflectively.
"Of course, we made it up afterwards, and it was heavenly."
"I can't imagine your ever being very angry," said Lily.
"Neither could I," Dorothy admitted frankly. "I always thought I had a beautiful temper, especially compared to poor Janet. But I'm afraid I haven't, after all. Perhaps the truth is that Frank is the only person I've ever known who's really worth quarrelling with."
The explanation, with its odd, un-Hardinge-like quality of discernment, was destined to remain in Lily's memory.
She asked Dorothy to stay with her, and they purchased together the very economically-chosen outfit that Dorothy hoped to take to India with her, which Lily supplemented as often as she dared with presents from herself and Nicholas.