“Damn it! Not a tailor?”
“Damn it, why not? Though it takes nine tailors to make a man, one woman can make a tailor.”
“Come, Moll, thou art goosing me.”
“A tailor’s goose, maybe.”
“Tell me, who is this friend of yours?”
“I wonder.”
“Frankly, is it man or woman?”
“Frankly, I’ve never asked.”
“Ah! you won’t tell me. Are we not good comrades now, and as such should have no secrets from one another?”
“What do you want to know?”