Time on My Hands

And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in. Time on my hands by Walter Black. Justin, did you enjoy the rose lamb tonight? Hmm? It was alright, why? Gertrude was wondering. She noticed you were frowning at the table.

None of the business if I was. Instead of the words and not to make anyone proud. Yes, dear, I know. And tell Gertrude and tell her to mind her own business. Just kidding. Washington with us almost 24 years.

Besides, she's a gem. And you know she knows it too. That's the problem. Well, dear, after all, this is 1939. You don't find cooks like Gertrude growing on trees. Just climbing on them, eh? What, dear?

Ah, nothing, eh, no. Sign by the nose. Will there be a war, Justin? Of course.

I don't think Roosevelt can keep us out of it, either. Soon or later, we'll be in it. If only that Hitler would listen to reason. You met him, I did. Does he strike you as the kind of person who would listen to reason?

No. But then it was so many years ago. We didn't really know him. You only have to meet the fellow who wants to know enough not to trust him. How many times have I tried to tell people? The man's a lunatic.

You can't do business with him. Destroy him before he destroys us. How many times have I said that, Emily? Many times, dear. Yes, and I've gotten the same reaction I get from you. My gentle pat's on the back.

Somewhere along the way you think someone would have had the sense to blow the man's brains out. He'd have saved the world a lot of grief. Well, dear, even if someone had killed him. Wouldn't there have been someone else?