Then, dear friend, why, why do you desire to offer me up upon the altar of unrest?
What is a little wifey to me or I to any wifey ?" "Because," said Gatewood irritated, "you offered me up.

I'm happy and I want you to be--you great, hulking, self-satisfied symbol of supreme self-centered selfishness--" "Oh, splash!" said Kerns feebly.
"Yes, you are.

What do you do all day?
Grub for money and study how to make life agreeable to yourself! Every minute of the day you are occupied in having a good time! You've admitted it! You wake up singing like a fool canary; you wear imported hosiery; you've made a soft, warm wallow for yourself at this club, and here you bask your life away, waddling downtown to nail contracts and cut coupons, and uptown to dinners and theaters, only to return and sprawl here in luxury without one single thought for posterity.

_Your_ crime is race suicide!" "I--my--_what_!" "Certainly.

Some shirk taxes, some jury duty.