“You aren’t going?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What, already?”
“Yes, already.”
“Well, if you must,” said Claire. “I like Mr. Twist,” she went on pensively. “He’s what I call a perfect gentleman.”
“He’s what I call a perisher,” said Hash sourly.
“Nice way he’s got of speaking. His Christian name’s Alexander. Do you call him that or Aleck?”
“If you care to ’ear what I call him,” replied Hash with frigid politeness, “you can come and listen at our kitchen door.”
“Why, you surely aren’t jealous!” cried Claire, wide-eyed.
“Who, me?” said Hash bitterly.