“I always feel so sorry for people who come up to town and go to live in those dens,” continued the young man. “They eat nothing but filth.”
“Oh I say!” cried Willie Woodley.
“Well, and how do you like London, Miss Alden?” Lord Lambeth asked, unperturbed by this ejaculation.
The girl was prompt. “I think it grand.”
“My sister likes it, in spite of the ‘filth’!” Mrs. Westgate recorded.
“I hope then you’re going to stop a long time.”
“As long as I can,” Bessie replied.
“And where’s wonderful Mr. Westgate?” asked Lord Lambeth of this gentleman’s wife.
“He’s where he always is—in that tiresome New York.”
“He must have staying power,” said the young man.