“The Elevated!” murmured Nelly devoutly. A wave of homesickness seemed to choke her for a moment.
“And the air. Like champagne. And a very blue sky.”
“Yes,” said Nelly in a small voice.
“I shouldn’t half mind popping over New York for a bit,” said Freddie, unconscious of the agony he was inflicting. “I’ve met some very sound sportsmen who came from there. You don’t know a fellow named Williamson, do you?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“Or Oakes?”
“No.”
“That’s rummy! Oakes has lived in New York for years.”
“So have about seven million other people,” interposed Jill. “Don’t be silly, Freddie. How would you like somebody to ask of you if you knew a man named Jenkins in London?”
“I do know a man named Jenkins in London,” replied Freddie triumphantly.