"Are you, though?" said the Hon. Freddy. "I say, won't you get a bit stared at, what?"
"Really, Freddy," said the Duchess, "does that matter?"
"Well," said the Hon. Freddy, "I mean to say, these bounders about here are all Socialists and Methodists...."
"If they are Methodists," said Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson, "they will not be at church."
"Won't they?" retorted the Hon. Freddy. "You bet they will if there's anything to see. Why, it'll be better'n a funeral to 'em."
"Surely," said Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson, "one has a duty in the matter, whatever our private feelings may be—especially at the present day, when people are so terribly slack."
She glanced at the Hon. Freddy.
"Oh, don't you mind me, Mrs. P.," said that youth amiably. "All I say is, if these blighters make things unpleasant, don't blame me."
"Whoever thought of blaming you, Freddy?" said the Duchess.
"Manner of speaking," said the Hon. Freddy.