‘After I’ve had a skite in London first.’
The old lady sniffs. ‘So she is in London!’
‘Who?’
‘Your young lady.’
‘Are you jealyous?’
‘Not me.’
‘You needna be. She’s a young thing.’
‘You surprises me. A beauty, no doubt?’
‘You may be sure.’ He tries the jam. ‘She’s a titled person. She is equally popular as maid, wife and munition-worker.’
Mrs. Dowey remembers Lady Dolly Kanister, so familiar to readers of fashionable gossip, and a very leery expression indeed comes into her face.