"Oh, yes," said Irene, looking out of the window at the waves of light that broke against the window with each passing street lamp. "You always say that, but I'm not near so deep as what you are."
"Yes, you are, because I'm always catching you out in a lie which you don't me."
"No, because I'm not so nosy."
"Now don't be silly and get in a paddy about nothing," Jenny advised. "You can't help having funny friends. Only what I can't understand is myself. I think they're both beasts, and yet I'd like to see them again. That's where I'm funny, I think."
Irene assumed an attitude of lofty indifference.
"There's no need for you to see them again, if you don't like them. Only they give you a good time, and Arthur gave me some glorious rings."
"Which your mother pawned," interrupted Jenny.
"And he's going to marry me," Irene persisted.
"Yes, if you get married after dinner when he's drunk."
"Oh, well, what of it? You're not so clever as what you make out to be."