"A most disgusting thing has happened in Curzon Street," he said. "Have you heard?"
"No; I've seen nothing of Maggie lately. You've all been buried in Omofaga."
"Hush! No words of ill-omen, please! Well, it's annoyed me immensely I can't think what the foolish fellow means. Tom Loring's going."
"Tom—Loring—going?" she exclaimed with a punctuated pause between every word. "What in the world for?"
"What is the ultimate cause of everything that happens to us now?" he asked, sticking his glass in his eye.
Adela felt as though she were playing at some absurd game of questions and answers, and must make her reply according to the rules.
"Oh, Mr. Ruston!" she said, with a grimace.
Her visitor nodded—as though he had been answered according to the rules.
"Tom broke out in the most extraordinary manner. He said he couldn't stay with Dennison, if Dennison let Ruston lead him by the nose (ipsissima verba, my dear Adela), and told Ruston to his face that he came for no good."
"Were you there?"