“You have not. My chief scruple was Hilda’s mother.”
“My point is that you haven’t had anything to do with the business. We arranged it all with Tithers and you weren’t even asked to give your consent. I don’t see what more could have been done for your scruples.”
“Hilda’s mother might have been asked.”
“I can’t stop here arguing with you all afternoon,” said Lalage. “Come on, Hilda.”
“Don’t go just yet. I promise not to mention Hilda’s mother again.”
“We can’t possibly stay, can we, Hilda? We have our viva to-morrow.”
“Viva!”
“Voce,” said Lalage. “You must know what that means. The kind of exam you don’t write.”
I got viva into its natural connection with voce and grasped at Lalage’s meaning.
“Part of the Jun. Soph. Ord.?” I said.