Sinclair Lewis

“ Corey and Mrs. Betz ceased; and without any of the unhappiness which the thought would have caused her three months before, Claire reflected, "How they hate me!"
⁠The Gilsons had a number of thoughts upon the subject of tact to express to Claire on the way home. But she, who had always smiled, who had been the obedient guest, shrugged and snapped, "They're idiots, those young women. They're impertinent shopgirls in good frocks. I like your Seattle. It's a glorious city. And I love so many of the fine, simple, real people I've met here. ”

“ Claire cooed, with low cunning.
⁠"Indeed no. Don't think a chap ought to inflict his business on his wife. The home should be a place of peace."
⁠"Yes," said Claire.
⁠But she wasn't thinking "Yes." She was thinking, "Milt, what worries me now isn't how I can risk letting the 'nice people' meet you. It's how I can ever waste you on the 'nice people.' Oh, I'm spoiled for cut-glass-and-velvet afternoons. Eternal spiritual agony over blue-room taps is too high a price even for four-poster beds. I want to be driving! hiking! living!" ”

“ Betz.
⁠"Yes, everybody does seem to feel that way. But I'm afraid I found them terribly nice," flared Claire.
⁠"I always say that common people can be most agreeable," Mrs. Corey patronized. Before Claire could kill her--there wasn't any homicidal weapon in sight except a silver tea-strainer--Mrs. Corey had pirouetted on, "Though I do think that we're much too kind to workmen and all--the labor situation is getting to be abominable here in the West, and upon my word, to keep a maid nowadays, you have to treat her as though she were a countess." ”