That woman had a devious mind that was only predictable when she scented an opportunity to vanquish her husband.
. . .
Because it was Saturday, Levy Pants had ceased its assaults upon the concept of free enterprise for the weekend.
. . .
“You’re kneeling on Rex’s grave!” Ignatius shouted. “Now tell me what you and that debauched McCarthyite have been doing? You probably belong to some secret political cell. No wonder I’ve been bombarded with those witch hunt pamphlets. No wonder I was trailed last night. Where is that Battaglia matchmaker. Where is she? She must be lashed. This whole thing is a coup against me, a vicious scheme to get me out of the way. My God! That bird was doubtlessly trained by a band of fascists. They’ll try anything.”
manwithoutqualities 