and he shook himself. "What the deuce is the matter
with me, this evening?"

He patted Louetta's hand, to indicate that he hadn't meant anything
improper by squeezing it, and demanded of Frink, "Say, see if you can
get old Dant' to spiel us some of his poetry. Talk up to him. Tell him,
'Buena giorna, senor, com sa va, wie geht's? Keskersaykersa a little
pome, senor?'"

II

The lights were switched on; the women sat on the fronts of their chairs
in that determined suspense whereby a wife indicates that as soon as
the present speaker has finished, she is going to remark brightly to
her husband, "Well, dear, I think per-HAPS it's about time for us to
be saying good-night." For once Babbitt did not break out in blustering
efforts to keep the party going. He had--there was something he wished
to think out--But the psychical research had started them off again.
("Why didn't they go home! Why didn't they go home!") Though he
was impressed by the profundity of the statement, he was only
half-enthusiastic when Howard Littlefield lectured, "The United States
is the only nation in which the government is a Moral Ideal and not just
a social arrangement." ("True--true--weren't they EVER going home?") He
was usually delighted to have an "inside view" of the momentous world of
motors but to-night he scarcely listened to Eddie Swanson's revelation:
"If you want to go above the Javelin class, the Zeeco is a mighty good
buy. Couple weeks ago, and mind you, this was a fair, square test, they
took a Zeeco stock touring-car and they slid up the Tonawanda hill on
high, and fellow told me--" ("Zeeco good boat but--Were they planning to
stay all night?")

They really were going, with a flutter of "We did have the best time!"

Most aggressively friendly of all was Babbitt, yet as he burbled he was
reflecting, "I got through it, but for a while there I didn't hardly
think I'd last out." He prepared to taste that most delicate pleasure of
the host: making fun of his guests in the relaxation of midnight. As the
door closed he yawned voluptuously, chest out, shoulders wriggling, and
turned cynically to his wife.

She was beaming. "Oh, it was nice, wasn't it! I know they enjoyed every
minute of it. Don't you think so?"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't mock. It would have been like sneering at
a happy child. He lied ponderously: "You bet! Best party this year, by a
long shot."

"Wasn't the dinner good! And honestly I thought the fried chi