"I leave it to you. No one sharper in London. Is he a gentleman—all that sort of thing?"
"Oh, of course!"
Mr. Shiffney pulled up his trousers a little more, exposing a pair of striped silk socks which emerged from shining boots protected by white spats.
"To be sure. If he hadn't been he'd have jumped at you and The Wanderer."
"Naturally. I shan't go at all now! What an unlucky woman I always am!"
"You never let anyone know it."
"Well, Jimmy, I'm not quite a fool. Be down on your luck and not a soul will stay near you."
"I should think not. Why should they? One wants a bit of life, not to hear people howling and groaning all about one. It's awful to be with anyone who's under the weather."
"Ghastly! I can't stand it! But, all the same, it's a fearful corvée to keep it up when you're persecuted as I am."
"Poor old Addie!"