Reggie said stubbornly:
“Nevertheless, it’s not done by nice people, Marion. It’s not proper, you know.”
I pushed him away from me.
“Oh, you make me sick,” I said.
You can go back to England and marry the girl they want you to, over there.
“My brother-in-law, Wallace Burrows, would call that sort of talk rank snobbery. In the States women think nothing of working. They are proud to do it, women of the best families.”
Reggie made a motion of complete distaste. The word “States” was always to Reggie like a red rag to a bull.
“My dear Marion, are you going to hold up the narsty Yankees as an example to me? My word, old girl! And as for that brother-in-law of yours, I say, he’s hardly a gentleman, is he? Didn’t you say the fellow was a—er—journalist or something like that?”