"Don't speak that way—as though you usually lunched with them. I hate it."
"How do you know I don't lunch with some of them? Besides everybody calls them Reggie, and Stuyve, and Jack——"
"Everybody except their mothers, probably. I don't want to hear about them, anyway."
"Why not, darling?"
"Because you and I don't know them and never will——"
Cynthia said maliciously: "You may meet them through your friend, Jimmy Desboro——"
"That is the limit!" exclaimed Jacqueline, flushing; and her pretty companion leaned back in her armchair and laughed until Jacqueline's unwilling smile began to glimmer in her wrath-darkened eyes.
"Don't torment me, Cynthia," she said. "You know quite well that it's a business matter with me entirely."
"Was it a business matter with that Dawley man? You had to get me to go with you into that den of his whenever you went at all."
Jacqueline shrugged and resumed her knitting: "What a horrid thing he was," she murmured.