I couldn't help it.

Fact," declared Cutty, earnestly.

"Think of the loot in the Romanoff palaces! What's become of all those magnificent stones?
In a little while they'll be turning up in Amsterdam to be cut--some of them.
Or maybe Mister Bolsheviki's inamorata will be stringing them round her neck.

Loot." "But the drums of jeopardy!" said Kitty.
"Emeralds, green as an English lawn in May after a shower, Kitty.

By the way, do you mind if I call you Kitty?
I used to." "And I've always thought of you as Cutty.