Blayne. (Stiffly.) Not much, thaanks.
Curtiss. (Quoting motto of Irregular Moguls.) "We are what we are," eh, old
man? But Gadsby was such a superior animal as a rule. Why didn't he go Home and
pick his wife there?
Mackesy. They are all alike when they come to the turn into the straight. About
thirty a man begins to get sick of living alone.
Curtiss. And of the eternal mutton--chop in the morning.
Doone. It's a dead goat as a rule, but go on, Mackesy.
Mackesy. If a man's once taken that way nothing will hold him, Do you remember
Benoit of your service, Doone? They transferred him to Tharanda when his time
came, and he married a platelayer's daughter, or something of that kind. She
was the only female about the place.
Doone. Yes, poor brute. That smashed Benoit's chances of promotion altogether.
Mrs. Benoit used to ask "Was you goin' to the dance this evenin'?"
Curtiss. Hang it all! Gadsby hasn't married beneath him. There's no tar-brush
in the family, I suppose.
Jervoise. Tar-brush! Not an anna. You young fellows talk as though the man was
doing the girl an honor in marrying her. You're all too conceited--nothing's
good enough for you.
Blayne. Not even an empty Club, a dam' bad dinner at the Judge's, and a Station
as sickly as a hospital.
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