She checked herself with an effort lest she should go on laughing, and her laughter turn uncontrollably into hysteria and tears.

Here was Mrs.Croyle, a grown woman, standing in front of her like a mutinous obstinate child, looking like one too, talking like one and bidding Joan leave her Wub alone.

Whence did she get that ridiculous name?
It was all degrading and grotesque.
"Your Wub! Your Wub!" she cried in a heat.

"Yes, I am only twenty, and probably I am quite wrong and stupid.

But it seems to me horrible that we two women should be wrangling over a man neither of us had met a week ago.