"My fault! How do you make that out?"
"Because I have never had the slightest respect for you."
"Why not?"
She actually laughed.
"How could you expect me to have any respect for a man who could not succeed in preventing me from doing the things I did?"
FRUGAL TO THE END
Not long ago a certain publication had an idea. Its editor made up a list of thirty men and women distinguished in art, religion, literature, commerce, politics, and other lines, and to each he sent a letter or a telegram containing this question: "If you had but forty-eight hours more to live, how would you spend them?" his purpose being to embody the replies in a symposium in a subsequent issue of his periodical.
Among those who received copies of the inquiry was a New York writer. He thought the proposition over for a spell, and then sent back the truthful answer by wire, collect:
"One at a time."