"I don't want it. I don't want anything. I can't eat a mouthful. Then I was wrong about his being a society dude?"
"Completely."
"And how is she? S'posing I've made a mistake about her, too?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. I've never seen her."
"You're telling me a fib."
"Ho, truly, I never have. I don't believe there's any such person. I think she's somebody that the papers have just made up. How many people have you found to work for?"
"Oh, three or four. But time for more. Rhyme, ain't it? I'm trying for the Massachusetts Brass, but I'd rather get Ingles. She gave a dance at Kinsley's night before last."
"How many words can you do?"
"About ninety—enough for business; of course I couldn't manage courts or banquets or sermons. I expect she comes down to his office for a check every now and then. Why don't she ever have her picture in the Sunday papers?"
"O Lord! I hope they're above that!"