"Well, that's plain enough," says he. "I don't see any use trying to make it any plainer. There's no use rubbing it in."
"If I had a servant," says she, right pointed, "who'd look at the best of them I'd discharge him as soon as I knew it. I've got my eye on Emmy, my second-floor maid, too. All I can say is, you'd all better be more careful, or, the first thing some of you know——"
"Naturally," says he, "I can imagine that," says he. "It's hell to belong to the lower classes!"
"What do you mean, James?" says she, solemn, "I'll not have profanity from you! Besides, you talk like a socialist person, and I'll not have that."
"Socialist, eh? Well, I'll admit, if I had all the money in the world," says he, "no wall nor bars would make any difference to me. Nor they wouldn't when I didn't have."
"James, continually you shock me beyond words!" says she, gasping. "What words from one in your position in life!"
He didn't say much then, but only sort of growled, like he was mad.
"James," says she, "what on earth are you doing—what's that you're eating?"
"It's good old tobacco I'm eating," says he. "I found the brand out West and I've used no other since."
"James! James!" says she. "You to chew the filthy weed! It's impossible!"