"Oh, I don't know. The same old thing. They make my life a burden to me?"
"But how?"
"They're always bothering me, always trying to get at you through me. They're always asking me to tea to meet people in the hope that I'll ask them back to meet you. I'm worn out with keeping them off you. Some day all Harmouth will come bursting into your drawing-room over my prostrate form, flattened out upon the door-mat."
"Never mind."
"I wouldn't, sweetheart, if they really cared about you. But they don't. If you lost your money and your social position to-morrow they wouldn't care a rap. That's why I hate them."
"Why do you visit them if you hate them?"
"Because, as I told you, I hunger and thirst for amusement, and they do amuse me when they don't make me ill."
"Dear Kitty, I'm sure they're nicer than you think. Most people are, you know."
"If you think so, why don't you visit them?" snapped Kitty.
"I would, if—"