She professed herself perfectly sick of New York, and urged him to go to Moffitt if he wanted to see a real live town.

He wondered if it would do to put her into literature just as she was, with all her slang and brag, but he decided that he would have to subdue her a great deal: he did not see how he could reconcile the facts of her conversation with the facts of her appearance: her beauty, her splendor of dress, her apparent right to be where she was.

These things perplexed him; he was afraid the great American novel, if true, must be incredible.

Mela said he ought to hear her sister go on about New York when they first came; but she reckoned that Christine was getting so she could put up with it a little better, now.

She looked significantly across the room to the place where Christine was now talking with Beaton; and the student of human nature asked, Was she here?
and, Would she introduce him?
Mela said she would, the first chance she got; and she added, They would be much pleased to have him call.