He fluttered the pages while she smoked. “Utter,” he decided. “Utter.”
“I haven’t finished it,” she said; “but so far I agree with you.”
“You’ll agree with me to the end. Pluperfect trash. Sam will love it.”
“What!”
“You’ll see. It’s just his line.”
“Aren’t you trying to prejudice me against him?”
He stared. “I’m trying to save you the trouble of reading the beastly thing. I’ve given you expert opinion. It’s trash and the brand of trash that he likes. Didn’t I tell you there, was mud in Sam?”
“You told me you invented him. I don’t believe your influence has been for good.”
“Don’t be hard on a fellow, Effie; I only introduced him to the mud. I didn’t know he’d wallow. Anyhow, let’s talk of something else.”
“You know,” she said, “you do influence people, Dubby.”