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"I detest this shrillness, as I've told you fifty times."
Iris bridled a little.
"I'm sure I wasn't _shrill_. I spoke in a very ordinary voice. And I
don't know why you should attribute such thoughts to me."
Lashmar gave way to nervous irritation.
"What a feminine way of talking! Is it impossible for you to follow
a logical train of ideas? I attributed no thought whatever to you.
All I said was, that I must take care not to be misunderstood. And I
see that I had very good reason; you have a fatal facility in
misconceiving even the simplest things."
Mrs. Woolstan bridled still more. There was a point of colour on her
freckled cheeks, her lower lip showed a tooth's pressure.
"After all," she said, "you must remember that I am a woman, and if
women don't express themselves quite as men do, I see no great harm
in it. I don't think mannishness is a very nice quality. After all,
I am myself, and I can't become somebody else, and certainly
shouldn't care to, if I could."
Dyce began to laugh forbearingly.


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