d the little
cuss--and he turns on Zilla and says, perfectly polite, 'Madam, why are
you trying to push past me?' And she simply--God, I was so ashamed!--she
rips out at him, 'You're no gentleman,' and she drags me into it and
hollers, 'Paul, this person insulted me!' and the poor skate he got
ready to fight.

"I made out I hadn't heard them--sure! same as you wouldn't hear a
boiler-factory!--and I tried to look away--I can tell you exactly how
every tile looks in the ceiling of that lobby; there's one with brown
spots on it like the face of the devil--and all the time the people
there--they were packed in like sardines--they kept making remarks
about us, and Zilla went right on talking about the little chap, and
screeching that 'folks like him oughtn't to be admitted in a place
that's SUPPOSED to be for ladies and gentlemen,' and 'Paul, will you
kindly call the manager, so I can report this dirty rat?' and--Oof!
Maybe I wasn't glad when I could sneak inside and hide in the dark!

"After twenty-four years of that kind of thing, you don't expect me to
fall down and foam at the mouth when you hint that this sweet, clean,
respectable, moral life isn't all it's cracked up to be, do you? I can't
even talk about it, except to you, because anybody else would think I
was yellow. Maybe I am. Don't care any longer.... Gosh, you've had to
stand a lot of whining from me, first and last, Georgie!"

"Rats, now, Paul, you've never really what you could call whined.
Sometimes--I'm always blowing to Myra and the kids about what a whale of
a realtor I am, and yet sometimes I get a sneaking idea I'm not such a
Pierpont Morgan as I let on to be. But if I ever do help by jollying you
along, old Paulski, I guess maybe Saint Pete may let me in after all!"

"Yuh, you're an old blow-hard, Georgie, you cheerful cut-throat, but
you've certainly kept me going."

"Why don't you divorce Zilla?"

"Why don't I! If I only could! If she'd just give me the chance! You
couldn't hire her to divorce me, no, nor desert me. She's too fond of
her three squares and a few pounds of nut-center chocolates in between.
If she'd only be what they call unfaithful to me! George, I don't want
to be too much of a stinker; back in college I'd 've thought a man who
could say that ought to be shot at sunrise. But honestly, I'd be tickled
to death if she'd really go making love with somebody. Fat chance! Of
course she'll flirt with anything--you know how she holds hand