"But I'm a lady."
"Ladies and cats are pretty much the same. Both wash themselves all over every day."
It was not in that sense Miss Burrows had claimed to be a lady, and with an angry flush she set to work to put me in my place.
"Oh, say," she asked incisively, "ain't English common soldiers with red coats called Tommies?"
"Toms," I corrected, "not Tommies. Toms. A she puss, who uses cheap scent instead of licking her fur, is apt to get scratched by Toms."
"How dare you say I'm no lady?"
"You're not, my dear. You're nice and common, frightfully attractive, pretty enough to turn the head of any Tom. Why, pussie, dear, if you lived in England, any of our chaps would walk out with you in the park. They'd charge half-a-crown—but, by jove, I'd do it for a bob."
"Holy snakes! Me to pay you for—wall, I guess that's all you red-coats are fit for anyway. We thrashed the stuffing out of you!"
"We're better without the stuffing. Oh, much better. I never pad. Do you?"
"We chased you out of Amurrica."