"But they already bury them in quicklime in England," said Eddie loftily.
"Yes, but not until after they're dead," said Droom with a cackle. He grinned broadly at the sight of the youth's horror-struck face. "Go ahead and smoke, my boy. I'll light my pipe. Make yourself at home. I keep the window closed to keep out the sound of those Wells Street cars. It's good of you to come over here and cheer up an old man's evenings. I'm—I'm not used to it," he said with a wistful touch which was lost to Eddie.
"You ought to have a wife and a lot of children, Mr. Droom," said Eddie with characteristic thoughtlessness. Droom stirred the fire and scowled. "Were you ever married?"
"No. I don't believe in marriage," said Droom sullenly.
"Gee! Why not?"
"Why should I? It's the way I was brought up."
"You don't mean it!"
"Yes. My father was a Catholic priest."
"But, Great Scott, Catholics believe in marriage."
"They don't believe in their priests marrying."