“Well, it’s like this. Remember I’ve known the old devil …”
“Freddie Rooke! Where do you pick up such expressions? Not from me!”
“Well, that’s how I always think of her! I say I’ve known her ever since I used to go and stop at their place when I was at school, and I know exactly the sort of things that put her back up. She’s a what-d’you-call-it.”
“I see no harm in that. Why shouldn’t the dear old lady be a what-d’you-call-it? She must do something in her spare time.”
“I mean to say, one of the old school, don’t you know. And you’re so dashed impulsive, old girl. You know you are! You are always saying things that come into your head.”
“You can’t say a thing unless it comes into your head.”
“You know what I mean,” Freddie went on earnestly, not to be diverted from his theme. “You say rummy things and you do rummy things. What I mean to say is, you’re impulsive.”
“What have I ever done that the sternest critic could call rummy?”
“Well, I’ve seen you with my own eyes stop in the middle of Bond Street and help a lot of fellows shove along a cart that had got stuck. Mind you, I’m not blaming you for it …”
“I should hope not. The poor old horse was trying all he knew to get going, and he couldn’t quite make it. Naturally, I helped.”