SNOOKS. Try another. _Jerry tries another._ JERRY. Not bad. Strong. SNOOKS. Sure it’s strong. Knock you over. Hard to get now. They gyp you every time. The country’s goin’ to the dogs. Most of these bootleggers, you can’t trust ’em two feet away. It’s awful. They don’t seem to have no conscience. JERRY [_warming_]. Have you ever been analyzed, Mr. Snooks? SNOOKS. Me? No, I never been arrested by the regular police. JERRY. I mean when they ask you questions. SNOOKS. Sure, I know. Thumb-prints--all that stuff. _Jerry takes another drink._ JERRY. You ought to want to rise in the world. SNOOKS. How do you know I oughta. JERRY. Why--why, everybody ought to. It says so. SNOOKS. What says so. JERRY [_with a burst of inspiration_]. The Bible. It’s one of the commandments. SNOOKS. I never could get through that book. JERRY. Won’t you sit down? SNOOKS. No, I got to hustle along in a minute. JERRY. Say, do you mind if I ask you a personal question? SNOOKS. Not at all. Shoot! JERRY. Did you ever--did you ever have any ambition to be President? SNOOKS. Sure. Once. JERRY [_ponderously_]. You did, eh? SNOOKS. Once. I guess bootleggin’s just as good, though. More money in it. JERRY [_weightily_]. Yes, that’s true. SNOOKS. Well, I got to hustle along now. I got to take my old woman to church. JERRY. Oh. Yes. SNOOKS. Well, so long. You got my address in case you go dry. _They both smile genially at this pleasantry._ JERRY [_opening the door_]. All right. I’ll remember. _Snooks goes out. Jerry hesitates--then he opens the door to the up-stairs._ JERRY. Oh, Char-lit! CHARLOTTE [_crossly_]. Please keep that door shut. That smell comes right up here. It’ll start my hayfever. JERRY [_genially_]. Well, I just wanted to ask you if you’ll take one little cocktail with me. CHARLOTTE. _No!_ How many times do I have to tell you? JERRY [_crestfallen_]. Well, you don’t need to be so disagreeable about it. _He receives no answer. He would like to talk some more, but he shuts the door and returns to the table. Picking up one of the jars, he regards its opaqueness with a quizzical eye. But it is his and quite evidently it seems to him good. He looks curiously at the three little bottles, smells one of them curiously and hastily replaces the cork. He hesitates. Then he repairs to the dining-room, singing: “Everybody is there!”--and returns immediately with an orange, a knife, and another glass. He cuts the orange, squeezes half of it into a glass, wipes his hands on the fringe of the tablecloth, and adds some of his liquor. He drinks it slowly--he waits. He prepares another potation with the other half of the orange._ _No! He does not choke, make horrible faces, nor feel his throat as it goes down. Nor does he stagger. His elation is evinced only by the vague confusion with which he mislays knife, oranges, and glasses._