"Nowhere, for dinner. To the Wynants afterwards."
"Oh, Constance to be sure."
"No, not Constance, to be sure. Where do you get that stuff?"
"As though I didn't know."
"Lay off. Is that what you came in here for?"
"No, that isn't what I came in here for. What do you think? The Finchleys are going to build a place up at Twelfth Lake next summer, right on the lake, next to the Phants, and Mr. Finchley's going to buy Stuart a thirty-foot launch and build a boathouse with a sun-parlor right over the water to hold it. Won't that be swell, huh?"
"Don't say 'swell.' And don't say 'huh.' Can't you learn to cut out the slang? You talk like a factory girl. Is that all they teach you over at that school?"
"Listen to who's talking about cutting out slang. How about yourself? You set a fine example around here, I notice."
"Well, I'm five years older than you are. Besides I'm a man. You don't notice Myra using any of that stuff."
"Oh, Myra. But don't let's talk about that. Only think of that new house they're going to build and the fine time they're going to have up there next summer. Don't you wish we could move up there, too? We could if we wanted to—if only Papa and Mamma would agree to it."