"I don't know whether I am or not," replied the young artist, looking worried. "I thought I had the problem solved at first. He got so sassy when we were arguing about him writing classics that I had no hesitation about applying a pinch of glue to his glittering little extremity. That put him out of the writing business until he came to terms."
"Well, now. You were enterprising!" she approved.
"It didn't do any good though," Jean grumbled despondently, bowing his head.
"He wouldn't bargain?" she asked incredulously.
"He didn't have to. He knew right where the cheese grater was."
"Ooh!"
"My sentiments exactly. But I don't know what to do with him now."
"You're all out of ideas?"
"Oh we could sell this house and move down to skid row where the rents are cheap," he flung out airily, but quite plainly worried sick.