and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in the house, and
she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp rule in
a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything
about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph,
it wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on
a little malted milk, and shake it up.

He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him
that he was just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse
the day she ever met him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded
her that she had not done any cursing at the time, being in his
opinion too busy roping him in to support her.

By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his
coat, and looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and
rocking the vociferous infant, interrupted herself to tell him
that she wanted a ten-cent roll of cotton from the drug store,
and added that she hoped she would not have to wait until next
Christmas for it, either. Which bit of sarcasm so inflamed Bud's
rage that he swore every step of the way to Santa Clara Avenue,
and only stopped then because he happened to meet a friend who
was going down town, and they walked together.

At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped
and bought the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the
things he had said to Marie, but not enough so to send him back
home to tell her he was sorry. He went on, and met another friend
before he had taken twenty steps.
This friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand
automobile that was offered at a very low price, and he wanted