“Oh, that’s so wise!” said Mrs. Judique.

“—­but finally I explains to him:  ’If you’d done as much as I have on Chamber of Commerce committees and all,’ I says, ’then you’d have the right to talk!  But same time,’ I says, ’I believe in treating your opponent like a gentleman!’ Well, sir, that held ’em!  Frink—­Chum I always call him—­he didn’t have another word to say.  But at that, I guess some of ’em kind o’ thought I was too liberal.  What do you think?”

“Oh, you were so wise.  And courageous!  I love a man to have the courage of his convictions!”

“But do you think it was a good stunt?  After all, some of these fellows are so darn cautious and narrow-minded that they’re prejudiced against a fellow that talks right out in meeting.”

“What do you care?  In the long run they’re bound to respect a man who makes them think, and with your reputation for oratory you—­”

“What do you know about my reputation for oratory?”

“Oh, I’m not going to tell you everything I know!  But seriously, you don’t realize what a famous man you are.”

“Well—­Though I haven’t done much orating this fall.  Too kind of bothered by this Paul Riesling business, I guess.  But—­Do you know, you’re the first person that’s really understood what I was getting at, Tanis—­Listen to me, will you!  Fat nerve I’ve got, calling you Tanis!”

“Oh, do!  And shall I call you George?  Don’t you think it’s awfully nice when two people have so much—­what shall I call it?—­so much analysis that they can discard all these stupid conventions and understand each other and become acquainted right away, like ships that pass in the night?”

“I certainly do!  I certainly do!”

He was no longer quiescent in his chair; he wandered about the room, he dropped on the couch beside her.  But as he awkwardly stretched his hand toward her fragile, immaculate fingers, she said brightly, “Do give me a cigarette.  Would you think poor Tanis was dreadfully naughty if she smoked?”

“Lord, no!  I like it!”

He had often and weightily pondered flappers smoking in Zenith restaurants, but he knew only one woman who smoked—­Mrs. Sam Doppelbrau, his flighty neighbor.  He ceremoniously lighted Tanis’s cigarette, looked for a place to deposit the burnt match, and dropped it into his pocket.

“I’m sure you want a cigar, you poor man!” she crooned.

“Do you mind one?”

“Oh, no!  I love the smell of a good cigar; so nice and—­so nice and like a man.  You’ll find an ash-tray in my bedroom, on the table beside the bed, if you don’t mind getting it.”