"Oh, no!" said Phyllis, going down on her knees before the box. "You must have been dreaming."
"I wasn't dreaming, and you're a foolish old dear, and I am a selfish pig," cried Katharine penitently.
"Oh, no!" said Phyllis again. "I was the pig, you see, because I forgot your letter. You'll rumple my hair, if you do that again."
Katharine did hug her again, nevertheless, and accused herself of all the offences she could remember, whether they related to the present occasion or not; and Phyllis silenced her in a gruff voice, and the unpacking proceeded by degrees.
"Don't you think," said Katharine irrelevantly, "that women are much more selfish than men, in some ways?"
"What ways?"
"I mean when they are absorbed in anything. Now, a man wouldn't behave like a cad to his best friend, just because he happened to be in love with a girl, would he? But a woman would. She would betray her nearest and dearest for the sake of a man. I am certain I should. Women are so wolfish, directly they feel things; and they seem to lose their sense of honour when they fall in love. Don't they?"
"Where do the stockings go?" was all Phyllis said.
"Perhaps," continued Katharine, "it is because a woman really has stronger feelings than a man."
"I shouldn't wonder," said Phyllis. "Who packed the sponge bag next to your best hat?"