“You shan’t go back at all.”
“I will! I won’t give in to your nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense; it’s justice. You’ve had a year and now I’m going to have a year. You didn’t care whether or not I wanted you to go, and now I don’t care whether you want me to go or not. I’m going.”
Frances smiled scornfully.
“I’ll go back as usual,” she said.
“Oh, will you! I’ve got a nice place myself.”
“I don’t believe it! What sort of place?”
“I’m going to be Aunt Irene’s companion,” she said calmly, “And I’m going to get just as much as you’re getting.”
They fought it out passionately, forgot their dignity, forgot their love, raised their voices until the poor old lady at the end of the corridor heard them. They cried, too, tears of anger and hysteria; at last, from sheer exhaustion they fell asleep side by side in the bed they had slept in together for so many nights in harmony and affection, fell asleep hating each other, each utterly resolved upon her own way.