But Raish did not shout when he saw him, did not even shake hands, to say nothing of thumping the little man upon the back. The broad and rubicund face of East Wellmouth's leading politician and dealer in real estate wore not a grin but a frown, and when he and Galusha came together at the gate he did not speak. Galusha spoke first, which was unusual; very few people meeting Mr. Horatio Pulcifer were afforded the opportunity of speaking first.
“Ah—good-morning, Mr. Pulcifer,” said Galusha, endeavoring to open the gate.
“Huh!” grunted Raish, jerking the gate from Mr. Bangs' hand and pushing it somewhat violently into the Bangs' waistcoat. “Mornin'.”
“It is a nice—ah—cool day, isn't it?” observed Galusha, backing from the gateway in order to give Horatio egress. Mr. Pulcifer's answer was irrelevant and surprising.
“Say,” he demanded, turning truculently upon the speaker, “ain't women hell?”
Galusha was, naturally, somewhat startled.
“I—I beg your pardon?” he stammered.
“I say ain't women hell? Hey? Ain't they, now?”
Galusha rubbed his chin.
“Well,” he said, doubtfully, “I presume in—ah—certain instances they—My experience has been limited, but—”