"We're not nice people," said Persis, "but we do."
"It's all we do do," said the lady of the embonpoint, whose first name by now he had gleaned as Winifred.
Forbes was surprised to hear himself speaking as if to old acquaintance. "When I was in San Francisco, six years or so ago, slumming parties were taking it up along the 'Barbary Coast.' And on my way East just now I read an editorial about its rage in New York, but I didn't believe it."
"It's awful," said the little man. "People have gone stark mad over it. The mayor ought to stop it."
"Oh, Willie, don't be a prude," said Persis. "You know it's healthier than playing bridge all day and all night."
"And much less expensive," said the white-haired one.
"It's sickening," Willie insisted. "It's unfit for a decent woman."
"Thanks!" said Persis, with a tone of zinc.
The little man made haste with an apology. "I don't mean you, my dear, of course; you dance it harmlessly enough; but—well, I don't like to see you at it, that's all."
"Your own mother is learning it," said Winifred.