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There was a fine way for a man to waste his time and his good money, lally gagging with a lot of feemales. No, thank you; none of it in HIS, if you please. Once only he had an affair a timid, little creature in a glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento, whom he had picked up, Heaven knew how.
He only said in an earnest manner, "I most heartily agree with you, Miss Obenreizer, and I have already said so, as Mr. Obenreizer will bear witness," which he by no means did, "in this house." Now, Vendale's eyes were quick eyes, and sharply watching Madame Dor by times, noted something in the broad back view of that lady. There was considerable pantomimic expression in her glove-cleaning.
Annixter was all bewildered. With the exception of the timid little creature in the glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento, he had had no acquaintance with any woman. His world was harsh, crude, a world of men only men who were to be combatted, opposed his hand was against nearly every one of them. Women he distrusted with the instinctive distrust of the overgrown schoolboy.
Then abruptly he had lost patience with himself for being so occupied with the subject, raging and furious with all the breed of feemales a fine way for a man to waste his time. He had had his experience with the timid little creature in the glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento. That was enough. Feemales! Rot! None of them in HIS, thank you.
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