a little on one side, to hear what Margaret was saying.
Margaret was saying, with a swift blush and an effect of daring, that she had no doubt she was a socialist.
“And wearing a gold chain!” said Gertrude, “And drinking out of eggshell! I like that!”
I came to Margaret's rescue. “It doesn't follow that because one's a socialist one ought to dress in sackcloth and ashes.”
The initial coloured deeply, and having secured my attention by prodding me slightly with the wrist of the hand that held his teacup, cleared his throat and suggested that “one ought to be consistent.”
I perceived we were embarked upon a discussion of the elements. We began an interesting little wrangle one of those crude discussions of general ideas that are dear to the heart of youth. I and Margaret supported one another as socialists, Gertrude and Sybil and the initial maintained an anti-socialist position,