“I know.”
“Then he came along. I took him, and so help me, I meant to stick by him. But I can’t stand it any more. God, do I look like a little white bird?”
“To me, you look more like a hell cat.”
“You know, don’t you. That’s one thing about you. I don’t have to fool you all the time. And you’re clean. You’re not greasy. Frank, do you have any idea what that means? You’re not greasy.”
“I can kind of imagine.”
“I don’t think so. No man can know what that means to a woman. To have to be around somebody that’s greasy and makes you sick at the stomach when he touches you. I’m not really such a hell cat, Frank. I just can’t stand it any more.”
“What are you trying to do? Kid me?”
“Oh, all right. I’m a hell cat, then. But I don’t think I would be so bad. With somebody that wasn’t greasy.”
“Cora, how about you and me going away?”
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot.”