Perpetua stares at him a moment and then breaks into a queer little laugh.
"You evidently have no desire to be mixed up with _my_ conscience," says she, a little angry in spite of her mirth.

"Well, I don't want you to have anything to do with it.

That's _my_ affair.

But, about this concert,"-- she leans towards him, resting her hand on the edge of the carriage.

"Do you think one should go _nowhere_ when wearing black ?" "I think one should do just as one feels," says the professor nervously.
"I wonder if one should _say_ just what one feels," says she.