“Certainly. You didn't suppose I could escape, did you?”
“Escape! What?” demanded Plank, getting redder.
“Escape being talked about, savagely, mercilessly. Can't you see how it helps? Oh dear, are you stupid, Beverly?
“I don't know,” replied Plank, staring, “just how stupid I am. If you mean that I'm compromising you—”
“Oh, please! Why do you use back-stairs words? Nobody talks about compromising now; all that went out with New Year's calls and brown-stone stoops.”
“What do they call it, then?” asked Plank seriously.
“Call what? you great boy!”
“What you say I'm doing?”
“I don't say it.”
“Who does?”