Aunt Prudence would be horrified, Dot would be taken aback, and Jack's forehead would crinkle in that way it does when he's watching one of Phryne's more...colorful guests recount their experiences, for example, at the Folies Bergeres -- but Phryne's smile only brightens. He's all energy and syncopation, a jazz quartet breaking loose with a drum solo. Lively, and she loves life. "Smart, isn't it?"

The Melbourne elite would gnaw their own arms off to know where she found it, but that's not even the best part. It's sleek and stylish and gives a strong statement: she adores it already.

She has calling cards; one appears between her gloved fingers in the hand she offers to him, her name and title printed in elegant type on the face. "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow connoisseur." She pauses, smiling widening. "Doctor."

The title leaves her lips with as much familiarity as a Christian name might; Phryne doesn't believe in standoffishness, and she does believe in meeting as many new people as she can.

This place has been absolutely fantastic for it.