"No," I admitted. "We don't want the extra seats. But I thought you might like the privacy."
"The desire for privacy is an archaic emotion," Miss Metford remarked sententiously, as she struck a match.
"Besides, it is so selfish. We may be crowding others," Miss Brande said quietly.
I was glad she did not smoke.
"I don't want that now," I said to a porter who was hurrying up with a label. To the girls I remarked a little snappishly, "Of course you are quite right. You must excuse my ignorance."
"No, it is not ignorance," Miss Brande demurred. "You have been away so much. You have hardly been in England, you told me, for years, and—"
"And progress has been marching in my absence," I interrupted.
"So it seems," Miss Metford remarked so significantly that I really could not help retorting with as much emphasis, compatible with politeness, as I could command:
"You see I am therefore unable to appreciate the New Woman, of whom I have heard so much since I came home."
"The conventional New Woman is a grandmotherly old fossil," Miss Metford said quietly.