I shall have to own that he cares for me less than the dust.

I shall have to throw up my hands and creep away and hide.

Oh, my God, am I such a rotten little freak as all that, Irene?
Tell me, go on, tell me." "Freak?
You! For Heaven's sake.

Don't the two front rows give nobody but you the supper signal whenever the chorus is on ?" "But they're not like Martin.

He's,--well, I dunno just what he is.