'My friends?'
'Yes; the disorderly women.'
'They are not my friends,' said Mrs. Freddy, with dignity, 'but I don't think you must call them——'
'Why not?' said Lord Borrodaile. 'I can forgive them for worrying the Liberals'—he threw a laughing glance at Greatorex—'but they are disorderly.'
'Isn't the phrase consecrated to a different class?' said Miss Levering, quietly.
'You're perfectly right.' Greatorex, for once, was at one with Lord Borrodaile. 'They've become nothing less than a public nuisance. Going about with dog-whips and spitting in policemen's faces.'
'I wonder,' said Mrs. Freddy, with a harassed air—'I wonder if they did spit!'
'Of course they did!' Greatorex exulted.
'You're no authority on what they do,' said Mrs. Freddy. 'You run away.'
'Run away?' He turned the laugh by precipitately backing away from her in a couple of agitated steps. 'Yes, and if ever I muster up courage to come back, it will be to vote for better manners in public life, not worse than we have already.'