F. I’ll never tell. What was it?
A. You know that tailor-made gown she wears? The one made of gray corduroy? Well, Clarence Key asked her if she got it so her husband could have it made into riding trousers, after she was done with it. Did you ever hear such impertinence?
F. He didn’t really!
A. He really did!
F. Why, Alice! I should think she’d have killed him. I would.
A. So would I.
F. (putting her hand on the handle of the door) Well, good-bye. Give my love to Blanche when you write.
A. Yes, I will.
F. I shall see you to-morrow?
A. Yes. Good-bye.