But they're apt to change their minds, you know."

"Do you mean," says he, "that--er--ah--"

"Something like that," I breaks in. "Anyway, you can judge. For, the
fact is, some busybody has been gossipin' about your little trick of
bawlin' out Alicia over the coffee and rolls and draggin' her round by
the hair."

"Wha-a-at?" he gasps.

"You didn't mention the divorce, did you?" I goes on. "Nor go into
details about your antique business? That Marie Antoinette
dressin'-table game of yours, for instance. You know there is such a
thing as floodin' the market with genuine Connecticut-made relics like
that."

Gets him white about the gills, this jab does.

"Puppy!" he hisses out. "Do you insinuate that--"

"Not me," says I. "I'm too polite. But when you unload duplicates of
the late Oliver Cromwell's writing-desk you ought to see that both
don't go to friends of Colonel Brassle. Messy old party, the Colonel,
and I understand he's tryin' to induce 'em to make trouble. Course,
you might explain all that to Auntie; but in her present state of
mind-- Eh? Must you be goin'? Any word to send up? Shall I tell her
this wilt-thou date is postponed to--"

"Bah!" says Clyde, bangin' the taxi door shut and signalin' the