I saw him this morning at Mrs.Wayne's.

He just dropped in while I was there and, metaphorically speaking, dragged us about by the hair of our heads." "Some women, I believe, confess to enjoying that sensation," Vincent observed.
"Yes, it's exciting," answered his wife.
"It's an easy excitement to attain." "Oh, one wants it done in good style." Something so stimulating that it was almost hostile flashed through the interchange.
Mathilde murmured to Pete: "Who are they talking about ?" "A mixture of Alcibiades and _Bill Sykes_," said Adelaide, catching the low tone, as she always did.
"He's the district leader and a very bad influence," said Mrs.Wayne.
"He's a champion middle-weight boxer," said Pete.
"He's the head of my stevedores," said Farron.
"O Mr.Farron," Mrs.Wayne exclaimed, "I do wish you would use your influence over him." "My influence?
It consists of paying him eighty-five dollars a month and giving him a box of cigars at Christmas." "Don't you think you could tone him down ?" pleaded Mrs.Wayne.

"He does so much harm." "But I don't want him toned down.

His value to me is his being just as he is.

He's a myth, a hero, a power on the water-front, and I employ him." "You employ him, but do you control him ?" asked Adelaide, languidly, and yet with a certain emphasis.
Her husband glanced at her.
"What is it you want, Adelaide ?" he said.
She gave a little laugh.
"Oh, I want nothing.