Her husband grunted grimly as he turned his paper so as to catch the reflection of the vestibule light.

“Don’t you think so, Charlie?”

“Uh! I don’t know. I never had much use for that fellow, anyhow.”

“He’s wonderfully talented,” she commented, “and so refined. He always had the most beautiful manners. Did you ever notice his hands?”

“I thought they were like a barber’s. Put him in ‘ J. ’s’ rig there, behind those horses of his, and how long do you suppose he’d hold those trotters with that pair of hands? Why,” he blustered, suddenly, “they’d pull him right over the dashboard.”