"You see, you can't stiffen a
fellow's backbone, as you call it, for one thing and not another. When he
found out he could stop drinking, he decided he could do other things as
well. He's started a chicken farm."
Madam groaned: "Of course. I never knew a fool that sooner or later
didn't gravitate to chickens. He will get an incubator next."
"He has two already. He and Mrs. Ranny are studying out the whole
business scientifically."
"And I suppose they've got a rabbit hutch, and a monkey, and some white
mice?"
"Not quite. But they've got a nice place. Want to go out with me next
Saturday and see 'em?"
"I do not. I'm not interested in menageries. I never expect to cross the
threshold."
Quin pulled up the cape that had slipped from her shoulder, and adjusted
it carefully.
"When Mr. Ranny comes in to see you," he said, "I hope you won't ball him
out right away. He's awful keen on this stunt, you know. It sort of takes
the place of the things he has given up."
Madam glared straight ahead of her for a few moments, then she said
curtly:
"I'll not mention it until he does."
"Oh, but I _want_ you to. He's as nervous as a witch about how you are
going to take it.
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