"I like her," the Doctor continued, after a pause.
"Do you?"
"And you—don't."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I feel it; I gather it from the way you said 'yes.'"
Armine moved, and leaned slightly forwards.
"Isn't she rather mauvaise langue?" he asked.
"Mrs. Derringham? I certainly don't think her so."
"She's one of the disbelievers in women you spoke of after dinner; one of the traitresses in the woman's camp. Why can't women hang together?"
"They do sometimes."