CHARLOTTE. No, what’s there? _Again Jerry comes in, almost unbearably self-conscious now. The poor man has taken the wrong part of the paper. Silently, with a strained look, he makes the exchange under the intense supervision of four eyes, and starts back to his haven in the dining-room. Then he jumps as Doris speaks to him._ DORIS. Say! JERRY [_morosely dignified_]. What? DORIS [_with real interest_]. What makes you think you could be President? JERRY [_to Charlotte_]. That’s right. Make a fool of me in front of all your relations! [_In his excitement he bangs down his paper upon a chair._] CHARLOTTE. I haven’t said one word--not one single solitary word--have I, Doris? _Jerry goes out hastily--without his paper!_ Did I say one word, Doris? I’ll leave it to you. Did I say one single word to bring down all that uproar on my head? To have him _swear_ at me? _Jerry, crimson in the face, comes in, snatches up his forgotten paper, and rushes wildly out again._ He’s been nagging at me all evening. He said I kept him from doing everything he wanted to. And you know very well, Doris, he’d have been a postman if it hadn’t been for me. He said he wished I was dead. _It seems to me it was Charlotte who wished Jerry was dead!_ He said he could get a better wife than me for thirty dollars a week. DORIS [_fascinated_]. Did he really? Where did he say he could get her? CHARLOTTE. That’s the sort of man _he_ is. DORIS. He’d never be rich if you _gave_ him the money. He hasn’t got any _push_. I think a man’s got to have _push_, don’t you? I mean sort of _uh_! [_She gives a little grunt to express indomitable energy, and makes a sharp gesture with her hand._] I saw in the paper about a fella that didn’t have any legs or arms forty years old that was a millionaire. CHARLOTTE. Maybe if Jerry didn’t have any legs or arms he’d do better. How did this fella make it? DORIS. I forget. Some scheme. He just thought of a scheme. That’s the thing, you know--to think of some scheme. Some kind of cold cream or hair--say, I wish somebody’d invent some kind of henna that nobody could tell. Maybe Jerry could. CHARLOTTE. He hasn’t brains enough. DORIS. Say, I saw a wonderful dog to-day. CHARLOTTE. What kind of a dog? DORIS. It was out walking with Mrs. Richard Barton Hammond on Crest Avenue. It was pink. CHARLOTTE. Pink! I never saw a pink dog. DORIS. Neither did I before. Gosh, it was cunning.... Well, I got to go. My fiancé is coming over at quarter to nine and we’re going down to the theatre. CHARLOTTE. Why don’t you bring him over some time? DORIS. All right. I’ll bring him over after the movies if you’ll be up.