“D’you know, boys—I like Caroline Baddlesmere!”
Lovegood coughed:
“Fame, indeed, for Caroline Baddlesmere,” said he.
“Yes.” She nodded her head decidedly. “Caroline Baddlesmere’s a rippin’ good sort.”
Lovegood, sitting back in his chair, eyed the straddling figure gloomily from under his dark brows:
“Certificate of character for Caroline Baddlesmere!” he growled.
“Yes.” She nodded again. “I’m ding-dong sorry she’s struck bad luck; but—y’know—Caroline is a bit of a new woman.... Now, I like a woman to be a woman—and act like a woman—and—and—dress like a woman!”
There was loud and prolonged laughter, and shouts of satiric applause, and cat-calls.
She herself dressed like a policeman.
Tumblers were banged on the tables.