Jerry Sant saw Mrs. Crowe driving in victorias with people who wore smartish bonnets. Professional experience enables him to recognize real ospreys. Three or four times he met her in her mauve, going to an evening party. From this he deduced that she was enjoying herself; and, it being quite contrary to the principles of socialism that any one should enjoy themselves except under socialist supervision, he put on a red necktie and paid her a visit. It was a wet day: she had nothing particular to do; and she was not unwilling to chat about herself. Looking at his florid sweaty vulgarity, it soothed her vanity to tell this plebeian of the patricians whom she had captured, the Honble. Mrs. This, the Baroness von That, and Lady Whatshemame of the Other. They were so kind. Their kettledrums and bridge-routs were so shick. You met such thoroughly Nice people you know. And the American millionairesses were so amusing. They had such shocking manners. Mrs. Crowe actually had seen one drinking soup out of a plate. Jerry had been getting more and more morose while she chattered; and now he burst out:
"I know better than to sup my soup out of the plate. I sup them with a spoon."
"Of course you do, Mr. Sant. But these American women have no manners whatever."
"Ah weel now, we've had enough of that. Look ye now, I've been letting ye go your own way a bit; and I think the time's come when ye might introduce me to some of your gran' friens. A'm none too gey at the hotel; and besides that, it's me due."
She found the man a sudden and accented nuisance: but she couldn't possibly quarrel with the keeper of the purse. "I'm sure, if you think it advisable, I don't want to keep you back. I don't quite see though how I can take you with me, as you say. You see you don't know any of these people."
"Well and fhat of that?"
"Why you silly man of course you've got to be introduced."
"How did you get introduced yersel'?"
"Oh, why, I was converted, you see."
"Imphm! Well, I'll let ye know I'm not for being converted, as ye call it."