“Queer you should take up with such a fellow, Ready.”
“Is it? I dunno. Contrast, you know. My dazzling wit has the greater glitter in contrast to his prosaic and peachy ways. I am a good thing, Bing, and I like to set myself off as well as possible. He’s an excellent foil, you know.”
“You’re a conceited ass!”
“Thanks, awfully, Bing, old boy. You have a dainty and delicate way of expressing yourself that I much admire—I don’t think!”
“Oh, well, you’re always shooting off your chin at other people, and it does you good to tell you the sober truth once in a while. You are an ass, Ready, and everybody knows it; and you have got a larger stock of conceit than any other man living.”
“Perchance if you continue this style of comment, I may become angry in time.”
“That’s all right. Get mad if you want to. What’ll you do?”
“I may give you an awfully cutting look.”
“That would be a terrible thing!”
“Hush!” warned Ready, applying his eye to a tiny hole in the curtain. “Methinks it is about time for Boltwood to be rushing to the arms of his Tottie.”