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Where you going?" "Oh, Ray, aren't you fun-ny! You know this is the Crowd's poker night at Lil's." The Crowd began to say that old Ray was going queer. Honestly, didja hear him last week? Talking about the instability of the home, and the home being the foundation of the state, and the country crumbling? Cora's face was a sight! I wouldn't have wanted to be in his boots when she got him home.
Hoyt smiled, nervously, and said she must run away and tend to her dinner. And went. Ray looked after her. He strode into the kitchenette where Cora stood, hatted, at the sink. "Say, looka here, Cora. You got to quit seeing that woman, see?" "What woman?" "One calls herself Mrs. Hoyt. That woman. Mrs. Hoyt! Ha!" "Why, Ray, what in the world are you talking about! Aren't you fun-ny!"
The girls in the crowd tried to avoid dancing with him. That often left Cora partnerless unless she wanted to dance again and again with Raymond. "How can you expect the boys to ask me to dance when you don't dance with their wives! Good heavens, if they can learn, you can. And for pity's sake don't count! You're so fun-ny!"
Cora had cried. "Aren't you fun-ny!" She often said that, always with the same accent. "Aren't you fun-ny!" "What's the matter?" "Why didn't you let me pick it out? They're wearing Persian lamb sets." "Oh. Well, maybe the feller'll change it. It's all paid for, but maybe he'll change it." "Do you mind? It may cost a little bit more. You don't mind my changing it though, do you?" "No. No-o-o-o!
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