"'Let me go home,' says he wearily.

"'You bet!' I snorts. 'It's time you was tucked in. The dew is
fallin' and some rude person might accost you. You big slob!
There's a man's work to do to-night, and as I don't seem to have no
competition in holding the title, I s'pose it's my lead.' I throwed
him into a carriage. 'You'd best put on your nighty, and have the
maid turn down your light. Sweet dreams, Gussie!' I was plumb sore
on him. History don't record no divorce suits in the Stone Age, when
a domestic inclined man allus toted a white-oak billy, studded with
wire nails, according to the pictures, and didn't scruple to use it,
both at home and abroad. Women was hairy, them days, and harder to
make love, honour and obey; but principles is undyin'.

"I boarded another cab:

"'Drive me to number ----,' giving him the address I'd heard her use.

"'Who is it,' came her voice when I rang the bell.

"'Messenger boy,' I replies, perjuring my vocal cords.

"When she opened the door, I pushed through and closed it behind me.

"'What does this mean?' she cried. 'Help!'

"'Shut up! It means you're killing the best boy in the world, and I
want to know why.'

"'Who are you?'