men held their faces measurably under control even though their
diaphragms fluttered; the need of renewing a note--paying a bonus for
the privilege--helped supplicants to hold in any bubbling hilarity.
Therefore, Mr.  Britt continued to be assured that he was pretty
generally all right, so far as the folks of Egypt were concerned. 

Mr.  Britt dyed after Hittie died.  That was when he was past sixty-
five. 

It was only the familiar, oft-repeated instance of temperament being
jounced out of a lifelong rut by a break in wedlock relations. 

Hittie was his yoke-mate, pulling hard at his side with wages of food
and drink.  The two of them kept plodding steadily in the dry and rocky
road all the years, never lifting their eyes to look over into
pastures forbidden.  Perhaps if Hittie had been left with the money,
after the yoke had been sundered, she would have kicked up her heels
in a few final capers of consolation, in order to prove to herself, by
brief experience, how much better consistent sainthood was as a
settled state.