And there was the circus performer who had all his money at home. So Michael went along with him to get his. But when the actor got in, he sent his wife out, and she chased Michael with a rolling pin.
One afternoon, as I was dressing to go to work, I was suddenly made self-conscious by Michael remarking: "If I had your physique, I wouldn't work."
"What would you be, then," I asked, "a boxer?"
"Hell, no, that's too much bruising work, and only the big fists are in the money."
"Well, you should worry," I said, "if you haven't a swell physique. You don't work anyway."
"Oh, I'm different; but you—well, it's queer, you liking a woman like Manda."
"Why, I thought you liked her," I said. "She's nice to you."
"I know she is, and she's a fine one all right; but that's not what I mean. I mean she's so homely, she couldn't do any hustling to help you out. See what I mean?"
"Ugly is but lovely does," I said.