Kitty pouted. "Well, you know I couldn't drive up to see you any more; Hackney was all but outside the radius—the radius of respectability. I couldn't ask coachman to go to Spitalfields—unless I pretended to be slumming."
"Well, pretend."
"Oh, Salvina! I thought you were so conscientious. No, I'll have to come in a cab. You're quite sure you won't have some more tea? Oh, do, I insist. One piece of sugar?"
"Yes, thank you, dear. By the way, has Sugarman the Shadchan been here?"
"You mean—has he gone?"
"Oh, poor Kitty! It was my fault. I let him know your address. I do hope the horrid man hasn't worried you."
"Sugarman?"
"No—Moss M. Rosenstein."
"How pat you have his name! But why do you call him horrid?"