Traumerei

Had any bad nightmares lately? That's nothing; you'll be afraid to dream at all after you read ...
Illustrated by REMINGTON
At the sound, Henry Ritchie's hand jerked. Most of the martini sloshed out over his robe. He jumped up, swabbing furiously at the spots. Goddam it!
Hank! His wife slammed her book together.
Well, what do you expect? That confounded buzzer—
—is a perfectly natural normal buzzer. You're just terribly upset, dear.
No, Mr. Ritchie said, I am not 'just terribly upset, dear'—for seven years I've been listening to that banshee's wail every time somebody wants in. Well, I'm through. Either it goes—
All right, all right , Mrs. Ritchie said. You don't have to make a production out of it.
Well?
Well what?
Mr. Ritchie sighed ponderously, glared at his wife, set what was left of the martini down on a table and went to the door. He slipped the chain.
Be this the marster of 'arfway 'ouse?