Light of my life. Joe smiled at Evelyn; she smiled at him.
"Are you interested in music, Mr. Levinson? Personally, I'm devoted to it, as I think our good host and hostess will testify. Not jazz—that I think goes without saying—but real music. Take Mendelssohn, for instance—there was a real Jew!"
The word echoed in his horrified ears. Of course he had meant to say "there was a real musician!" Ralph began to talk to Evelyn about Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, every glance, every gesture, saying, "How exquisite you are!" "Seen any good motion pictures lately?" Hartley asked Joe, feebly. But soon he had recovered enough to explain to the table that he was going to buy a vacuum cleaner for the little mother's birthday present.
"In fact, that's what I owe this very delicious dinner and delightful company to. . . . No, thank you, no potato. I find it's better for me to cut out the starches. Personally, I always think it's better to go to the fountain head, so when I thought of a vacuum cleaner I thought of Joe Green, and went to see him about it. Isn't that the case, Joe? I plan to tie a bunch of carnations to the handle—we know the ladies appreciate having things prettied up, don't we, sir? Our host and I are both in businesses that have real romance in them, to my way of thinking, the romance of home building. I supply the home, Mr. Green here lightens the task of the home maker. What is your line, sir?"
