“I mean it’s not quite as bad as all that! In planning this lone desert trip Verbeena may be doing something on the brink of the very-very, but,” said the American stoutly, “one has to consider the jolly queer childhood circumstances of the ripping little rotter.”
“My dear man, unless I’ve had a crack of amnesia don’t you suppose I know positively that the entire Mayonnaise outfit was designed as dressing for a nut salad?”
“Indeed?”
“Rather! But mark my words, if she persists in this scandalous venture she’d best make her explanations in Arabic when she gets back. Her story will sound a bit garish in English I fancy! A single gel—a flapper—amid a flock of males Orientally disposed! Why——”
Drawing her wrap around her as far as it would go, Lady Speedway shook her dependent chins vigorously and departed.
“Oh, my word and tosh!” exclaimed the American. “Old scandal sprinkler!”
“Good heavens!” cried his phlegmatic British companion, “isn’t it true how one misses one’s opportunities? Here I’ve known Verbeena Mayonnaise all her life and never a breath of scandal has touched her!
“In the first place, you know, Verbeena isn’t a mere human girl. She had an uncle who was an old pig, her father was a balmy bloater and her brother is an ass!”
“O, I say, really?” asked the American, fingering the English tailor’s label on his clothing and looking sharply into the ballroom. “Whereas she herself was clearly meant for a boy and was changed at the last moment. She looks like a boy in skirts, a damned pretty boy—and a damned haughty one.”
“I falter,” said the Englishman courteously, “at an attempt to think of a boy no matter how damned pretty he might be, looking haughty in skirts. But have it your own way, old dear. However, please remember the handicap that Lady Speedway has taken on me and don’t interrupt in the matter of these Mayonnaises. Why, I was brought up right next to ’em, as it were, and——”