"Apologize for what? Why should I apologize? For all I know, you're the ones who kicked my shoe out!" Yvonne Hale glared viciously at Grace Winslow.
Grace Winslow's lips curved into an icy smile. "Is that so?"
Although she had in fact been the one to kick it, there was no proof, and Grace Winslow had no intention of admitting it.
Besides, Yvonne Hale was the one who had started the trouble in the first place.
Soon, a train attendant came over, carrying a black leather shoe.
The moment Yvonne Hale saw it, she rushed over and snatched it. "That's right, this is my shoe!"
"It must have been you low-class people! You're the ones who kicked it out!"
Grace Winslow rolled her eyes. "Low-class people?"
"What? We're in a new era, yet you're more feudal than a relic of feudalism. We toil in the fields and support ourselves with our own two hands. How does that make us 'low-class'?"
"Or are you some feudal holdover yourself, trying to pull that aristocratic capitalist nonsense here?"
