"Again I say, I don't understand you, Mrs. Jones."
"Oh, Mr. Perkins, it's no use trying to fool me. I know men. In my younger days I was married to a man."
"Strange contingency! But still it casts no light on your previous remarks."
"You've got very innocent eyes, I must say, Mr. Perkins."
"The eyes, madam, are the windows of the soul," Perkins quoted, with mock gravity.
"Well, if the eyes are the soul's windows, there are some people who always keep their windows curtained."
"But I must deny any such questionable performance on my part. I have not the shrewdness to veil my soul from the scrutiny of so keen an observer as yourself."
"Oh, flattery is n't going to do your cause one mite of good, Mr. Perkins. I'm not going to scold, but next time you get him in such a state I wish you'd bring him home yourself, and not let him come tearing in here like a madman, scaring a body half to death."
"Will you kindly explain yourself? What condition? And who is 'him'?"
