The small, quiet man sat before a great sparkling mirror and swore quietly as he rubbed prodigious quantities of rouge onto his sallow complexion. He surveyed his rosy cheeks in the glass, stood erect and made a mocking bow, very deeply, very slowly.
"And you also, you ass? I'm extremely delighted to hear you say so. Really, you're too kind. Really. Why, it couldn't have been that fine, you're just flattering me. You fool, you wouldn't know a bow from a mute. All you ever look at is my shoes. 'Performance in proportion to square of brilliance.' Is my tie on straight, Mr. Critic? The third movement would have been much better if my trousers had been creased, I admit. But all of us have our little faults, don't we?"
Manuscripts: Vol. 9
, Article 3.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol9/iss3/3
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