“You do not know what you say. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. A radiant smile astonished him. It was a sickening process, and the sucking sound was sure to wake up Ray’s mother. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep. ” He whispered to himself as her eyes bulged, arms flying furiously. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. You don’t want to look like Bozo.
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