There was an awkward, an ominous silence. "That," Mr. Linton said, in a harsh and firm voice, "is something I can't discuss. It's a personal matter."
"It ain't personal with me," Jerry announced, carelessly. "We was talkin' about Tom's married life and I happened to say—"
"DON'T!" Linton's cry of warning held a threat. "Don't spill your indecencies in the presence of this child or—I'll hang the frying-pan around your neck. The truth is," he told Letty, "there's no use trying to live with a horn' toad. I've done my best. I've let him defame me to my face and degrade me before strangers, but he remains hostyle to every impulse in my being; he picks and pesters and poisons me a thousand times a day. And snore! My God! You ought to hear him at night."
Strangely enough, Mr. Quirk did not react to this passionate outburst. On the contrary, he bore it with indications of a deep and genuine satisfaction.
"He's workin' up steam to propose another divorce," said the object of
Tom's tirade.
"That I am. Divorce is the word," Linton growled.
"WHOOP-EE!" Jerry uttered a high-pitched shout. "I been waitin' for that. I wanted him to say it. Now I'm free as air and twice as light. You heard him propose it, didn't you?"
"Wat you goin' do 'bout dis lay?" Toleon inquired.
"Split her," yelled Jerry.
"Dis cabin, too?"