"Well, but, Francesca, I'm boiling over with indignation."

"So am I," she said, "but--"

"But me no buts," I said. "Let's boil over together and trounce Mr.
Hutchinson. Let us write a model letter for the use of season-ticket
holders who have mislaid their tickets. We'll pack it full of sarcasm
and irony. We will make an appeal to the nobler sentiments of the
Board of Directors. We will remind them that they too are subject to
human frailty, and--"

"--we will not send the letter, but will put it away until we've
finished our boiling-over and have simmered down."

"Francesca," I said, "am I not going to be allowed to communicate to
this so-called railway company my opinion of its conduct? Are all the
pearls of sarcasm with which my mind is teeming to be thrown away?"

"Well," she said, "it would be useless to cast them before the Railway
Executive."

"Mayn't I hint a hope that the penny-halfpenny will come in useful in
a time of financial stress?"

"No," she said decisively, "you are to do none of these things. Of
course they've behaved in a mean and shabby way, but they've got you
fixed, and the best thing you can do is to get a postal order and send
it off to Mr. Hutchinson."