"Those contemptible Mopworths. I wonder if they have any feelings of shame? If they have, they must blush when they think of the way they have treated us."
"I can't think why they've left us out. Perhaps it's a mistake."
"Not a bit of it. I've been expecting this for some time. Of course he has made money. I don't say—I would rather not say—how he has made it. But it seems to have turned his head. However, after this I shall probably never mention him again."
Eliza began to talk about the weather. I told her that Mopworth had done things which, personally, I should have been very sorry to do, and that I should be reluctant to adopt his loud style of dress.
"But, of course," I added, "no gentleman ever does dress like that."
Eliza said that if I intended to catch my train I had better start.
I started.
On my return I said to Eliza that, though the whole subject was distasteful to me, there was one point to which I had given a few moments' consideration. Reluctant though I was to sully my lips with the name of Mopworth, I felt it a duty to myself to say that even if the Mopworths had asked us to their annual party I should have refused point-blank.
"Really?" said Eliza. This annoyed me slightly. She ought to have seen, without being told, that it was impossible for people like us to continue to know people like them.