"She's so equipped. First, she's well born. Her grandmother was a Grace and her mother was a Vanderdecken. See her teeth. See her hair, and her profile. Dreadful!"
"They're very beautiful, in a correct way. She's as well made as a grand piano."
"That's it, Billy. And she has done nothing but polish herself, and now you can see your face in her. Fancy, Billy, what these modern creatures do. They go to gymnasium. They can take a five-barred gate, I believe, in their knickerbockers and what they call sneakers. They understand all about foods and what's good for them and what's good for the aged, and if you're over seventy they buy condensed foods in cans and make you take it twice a day."
"You haven't tasted your grog."
"I shan't. Want it?"
He accepted the glass, and sniffed at it critically.
"That's good," he commented. "That's very good. There's a familiar creature in that." He tasted, and then drank with gusto.
"Well," said the old lady disparagingly, "you wouldn't have said so if it had been one of the foods. I have them before I go to bed."
He spoke persuasively: "Florrie, let's talk a little more about the book."
"There's nothing more to say. I've told you the whole story, and I know you won't tell anybody else."