"Home at last," he sighed, pecking Marge, his wife, on the cheek. "What did you buy today, Honey?"
It was a treat to watch the pleasure with which Marge unwrapped packages. J.L. bought most things out of a sense of duty, but Marge and Glory really enjoyed spending money, God bless them.
"Oh, lots of things," Marge answered. She held a cut crystal goblet to the light watching it sparkle. "A new set of china, this exquisite stemware, and the loveliest linen tablecloth, and ... oh, and they're sending a genuine oak table for the dining room. The shop I bought it in has the cleverest service. The man who delivers the table cuts up the old one so it can be used in the fireplace. Isn't that practical?"
"That is clever," J.L. said. "It's a pity to waste it all on that good-for-nothing, whatever his name is."
"Stringer."
"What?"
"That's his name, Ernest Stringer. Why is he a good-for-nothing? He does dress oddly, I admit, but Glory seems to like him."
"That's exactly why I'm worried. If she asked him for dinner there's no telling what's going on. A person like that is a bad influence." J.L. said, punctuating by jabbing the air with his index finger.
"Now really, Dear. You hardly know him."
"I know him well enough. You are the one who claims to be such a good judge of character. Look at those glasses he wears. Why doesn't he wear disposable contact lenses like everyone else. It's positively unsanitary. And did you see that suit? I'll say he dresses oddly. That thing hasn't been in style for a month. I bet he doesn't spend half his salary."