every ten seconds.

A giant lumbered in.

"Porgie!"

"Saw your husband speeding away--couldn't stand it, dropped in. Take me
upstairs--I want to see your shoe cabinet."

"Oh, don't spoil everything. Be my gentleman friend. Tell me about your
dreams and ideals--your rags--"

"Ah--rags--you do love me!"

"I don't know--but I love rags--sweet--so sweet--"

"You're a misfit here--as who isn't. All misfits, frauds--fakes--liars--"

"All?" Warble looked interested.

"Yes, you little simpleton. I know!" He growled angrily. "Shall I tell
you--tell you the truth about the Butterflies?"

"Pleathe--pleathe--"

"I will! You ought to know--you gullible little fool. Well, to start with,
Avery Goodman--in his true nature, he's a worldly, carnal man. His religion
is a cloak, a raincoat, a mere disguise. Mrs. Charity Givens, now, she's no
more truly charitable than I am! She's shrewd and stingy, her lavish gifts
to the poor are merely made for the sake of the praise and eulogy heaped