Whin th' Gr-reat
Fi-nanceer cud stand it no longer he called upon th' Judge to sthrike
off th' chains an' make him a free man. He got a divoorce.
"I dare ye to come down to my house an' say thim things," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"Oh, I know ye don't agree with me," said Mr. Dooley. "Nayether does th'
parish priest. He's got it into his head that whin a man's marrid he's
marrid, an' that's all there is to it. He puts his hand in th' grab-bag
an' pulls out a blank an' he don't get his money back.
"'Ill-mated couples?' says he. 'Ill-mated couples? What ar-re ye talkin'
about? Ar-re there anny other kinds? Ar-re there anny two people in th'
wurruld that ar-re perfectly mated?' he says. 'Was there iver a
frindship that was annything more thin a kind iv suspension bridge
between quarrels?' he says. 'In ivry branch iv life,' says he, 'we leap
fr'm scrap to scrap,' he says. 'I'm wan iv th' best-timpered men in th'
wurruld, am I not? ('Ye are not,' says I.) I'm wan iv th' kindest iv
mortals,' he says, 'but put me in th' same house with Saint Jerome,' he
says, 'an' there'd be at laste wan day in th' month whin I'd answer his
last wurrd be slammin' th' dure behind me,' he says. 'Man is nachrally a
fightin' an quarrelin' animal with his wife.
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