“What?”
“'In the Social World!' You want to get in with that gang, eh? Has Dyckman asked you to marry him?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, if he does, don't ever let him take you into his own set.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just to warn you. Those social worldlings wouldn't stand for you, Anita darling. You can make monkeys of us poor men. But those queens will make a little scared worm out of you and step on you. And they won't stop smiling for one minute.”
“Is that so?” Kedzie snarled. There it was again.
The telephone rang. Kedzie answered it. The hall-boy timidly announced:
“Mistoo Dyckman is down year askin' kin he see you. Kin he?”
“Send him up, please,” said Kedzie. Then she turned to Ferriday. “He's here—at this hour! I wonder why.”