"I didn't mean one word I said, darling! I just get nasty like that before I know it. I didn't mean it!"
"My own Effie!"
"My darling Mamma Hat!"
In the shadow of a flowering shrub Mr. Goldstone stood by, mopping. Mrs.
Goldstone took the small face between her hands, peering down into it.
"Effie, Effie, don't let—"
Just beyond the enclosing hedge, a motor-car drew up, honking, at the curb, two far-flung paths of light whitening the street and a disused iron negro-boy hitching-post. Miss Goldstone reared back.
"That's him!"
"Effie!"
"Let me go, dearie; let me go!"
"But, Effie—"