“Everybody, of course! You know it. You always were spoiled to death.”

“Yes—to death.”

“Stephen!”

“Yes?”

“Are you becoming cynical?”

“I? Why should I?”

“You are! Stop it! Mercy on us! If that is what is going on in a certain house on lower Fifth Avenue, facing the corner of certain streets, it's time somebody dropped in to—”

“To—what?”

“To the rescue! I've a mind to do it myself. They say you are not well, either.”

“Who says that?”