“Plying my trade.”
“That of lotus eater?”
“That of mill owner in good and regular standing! Down there,” he waved a hand toward the Altonia far below them, “toil my minions! I watch ’em. By the sweat of my brow, once removed.”
“’Atta boy! Where are you going now?”
“To the darky church. You can come if you promise not to emit the loud guffaw that speaks the vacant mind.” He fell into leisurely step beside her. “Babe, I’m for this place a million! And the people! Crazy about ’em.”
She considered him darkly. “If you’re crazy about Nancy Carey I’m off you for life.”
“Why?”
“She’s a Dumb Dora.”
“But very easy to look at, you grant me?”
“I grant you. But something less than nothing to listen to. Peter, don’t! Dead above the ears. Wouldn’t get you at all.”