"No, she isn't," Minnie replied, as she rushed off toward the kitchen. "She's gone."
Morris hung up his coat and made his perfunctory toilet without another word. Despite Minnie's pathetic appearance, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes that urged Morris to the exercise of the most delicate marital diplomacy.
"What a soup!" he exclaimed, as he subjected the first spoonful to a long, gurgling inhalation. "If they got such soup as this at the Waldorf, Minnie leben, I bet yer the least they would soak you for it is a dollar."
Following the soup came boiled brisket, a dish that Morris loathed. Ordinarily Morris would have eaten it with sulky diffidence, but when Minnie bore the steaming dish from the kitchen he not only jumped from his seat to take it from her hands, but after he had deposited it on the table he kissed her on the forehead with lover-like delicacy.
"How did you know I am thinking all the way up on the subway if Minnie would only got Brustdeckel for supper for a change what a treat it would be?" he said.
Minnie's glum face broke into a smile and Morris fairly beamed.
"What do you bother your head so about a girl leaves you, Minnie leben," he cried. "You could get plenty of girls. On Lenox Avenue a feller could break his neck already falling over girls which is hanging around looking for jobs."
"Oh, I know you can get lots of girls," Minnie agreed, "but you've got to train them, Morris; but then, too, I wouldn't care so much, but those awful Italians upstairs went and stole Tillie away from me."
"What!" Morris shouted. "Them Italieners done it? Well, what do you think of that for a dirty trick?"
"And they only pay her three dollars a month more," Minnie continued.