"It's not art, but it's a dollar.
"He came in When I was out, To borrow some tin Was why he came in, And he went without; So I was in And he was out." The merry lilt with which he had invested the jingle was at variance with the dejection that came into his face as he finished.

He had drawn no smile from Ruth.

She was looking at him in an earnest and troubled way.
"It may be a dollar," she said, "but it is a jester's dollar, the fee of a clown.

Don't you see, Martin, the whole thing is lowering.

I want the man I love and honor to be something finer and higher than a perpetrator of jokes and doggerel." "You want him to be like--say Mr.Butler ?" he suggested.
"I know you don't like Mr.Butler," she began.
"Mr.Butler's all right," he interrupted.