But Mimi already had put her hat on and was halfway to the door, with elaborate indefiniteness promising to look in on Mrs. Crosby again “the very first time I can steal a minute or two.” Privately she was vowing to have no minutes free for her rotund hostess as long as she was in Paris. These promises and Mrs. Crosby’s reiteration of her demands that Mimi spend all her spare time with her took a longer time than Mimi knew. She wanted to get away but her hostess had launched into a life history of Jimmy Forrester and resignedly Mimi listened.
“… He comes of a very good family in New York—they haven’t much money but they’ve got position—Jimmie’s connected with a big brokerage house in New York that handles a lot of Mr. Crosby’s business—Jimmie does practically all of Horace’s buying and selling of stocks or bonds—frightfully smart, Jimmy is, and bright as a steel trap—Jimmie’s just like he’s my own son. …”
“Hello, Jimmie dear—I want you to meet a friend of mine who’s been trying her hardest to slip away before you came. Miss Daquin, this is Jimmie