These reflections Violet’s advent had interrupted.
“What are you going to do?” the lady was asking.
Leilah, unfit at the moment for battle, felt unable to tell. She looked away.
“Nothing, I suppose.”
Violet, cocking a belligerent eye, threw out:
“You carry moderation to excess.”
Leilah looked up. “What would you have me do?”
“Divorce Barouffski.”
“Because he threw champagne about? I hardly fancy I could get a divorce for that.”