*    *    *    *    *

...while he, clutching his Sunday paper, wandered about, finding,
like the dove in Genesis, no rest.

*    *    *    *    *

He had the plethoric habit of one to whom wholesome exercise
is a stranger and the sallow complexion of the confirmed candy fiend.

*    *    *    *    *

Her eyes were flashing with an inspired light of a highly belligerent
nature, and the sun turned the red hair to which she owed her
deplorable want of balance to a mass of flame.

*    *    *    *    *

Constant practice had made him an adept at saying nothing when his wife was talking.

*    *    *    *    *

She made allowances for her husband's state of mind. She was willing
to permit even American expletives during the sinking-in process of her
great idea, much as a broadminded cowboy might listen indulgently to the
squealing of a mustang during the branding process. Docility and obedience
would be demanded of him later, but not till the first agony had abated.

*    *    *    *    *

There was a rush and scurry in the corridors of Mr. Crocker's brain,
as about six different thoughts tried to squash simultaneously into
the main chamber where there is room for only one at a time.

*    *    *    *    *

He wore the unmistakable look of a man about to be present at a row
between women, and only a wet cat in a strange backyard bears itself
with less jauntiness than a man faced by such a prospect.

*    *    *    *    *

Mrs. Crocker laughed another light laugh, one of those offensive,
rippling things that cause so much annoyance.

*    *    *    *    *

...her mouth had the coldly forbidding look of the closed door
of a subway express when you have just missed the train.

*    *    *    *    *

It is but rarely that anyone is found who is not dazzled by the glamour of incivility.

*    *    *    *    *