She said nothing, but shrugged faintly.
"You knew I worked for the F.B.A.," he said. "You knew I'd have charge of a district pound. You knew it before we got married."
"I didn't know you killed them," she said venomously.
"I won't have to kill many. Besides, they're only animals."
"Intelligent animals!"
"Intelligent as a human imbecile, maybe."
"A small child is an imbecile. Would you kill a small child?"
"You're taking intelligence as the only criterion of humanity," he protested hopelessly, knowing that a logical defense was useless against sentimentality. "Baby—"
"Don't call me baby! Call them baby!"
Norris backed a few steps toward the door. Against his better judgment, he spoke again. "Anne honey, look! Think of the good things about the job. Sure, everything has its ugly angles. But think—we get this house rent-free; I've got my own district with no bosses around; I make my own hours; you'll meet lots of people that stop in at the pound. It's a fine job, honey!"