"I suppose you enjoy it," I said to her once.
"Of course I enjoy it, or I shouldn't do it," she retorted. "It isn't the real thing, as I told you once. But none of us gets the real thing. It's power…. Just as you enjoy what you're doing—sorting out the unfit. It's a game, it keeps us from brooding over things we can't help. And after all, when we have good appetites and are fairly happy, why should we complain?"
"I'm not complaining," I said, taking up a cigarette, "since I still enjoy your favour."
She regarded me curiously.
"And when you get married, Hugh?"
"Sufficient unto the day," I replied.
"How shall I get along, I wonder, with that simple and unsophisticated lady when she appears?"
"Well," I said, "you wouldn't marry me."
She shook her head at me, and smiled….
"No," she corrected me, "you like me better as Hams' wife than you would have as your own."