He putteth the cat out by night.
He is not afraid of the cook.
His ashes fall not upon the carpet, and his cigarette burneth not holes in the draperies.
For he doeth his smoking on the piazza.
He weareth everlasting socks and seweth on his own buttons.
His overcoat doeth him two seasons.
Yet, when he ventureth abroad with his wife he donneth a dress suit without grumbling.
The grouch knoweth him not and his breakfast always pleaseth him. His mouth is filled with praises for his wife’s cooking. He doth not expect chicken salad from left-over veal, neither the making of lobster patties from an ham-bone.
His wife is known within the gates, when she sitteth among the officers of her Club, by the fit of her gowns and her imported hats. He luncheth meagrely upon a sandwich that he may adorn her with fine jewels. He grumbleth not at the bills.
He openeth his mouth with praises and noteth her new frock. And the word of flattery is on his tongue.