I talked with Miss Baker, I’m going to call up Daisy to-morrow and invite her over here to tea.
Oh, that’s all right, I don’t want to put you to any trouble.
We haven’t met for many years
Five years next November.
This is a terrible mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake.
You’re just embarrassed, that’s all, Daisy’s embarrassed too.
Do you like it?
I love it, but I don’t see how you live there all alone.
I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.
It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such — such beautiful shirts before
“Yes. . . . well, I can’t talk now. . . . I can’t talk now, old sport. . . . I said a small town. . . . he must know what a small town is. . . . well, he’s no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a small town. . . . ”