“Everybody’s got one.”
“And welcome, so far as I’m concerned.”
“People wanting to come, and the place all fixed up under the trees, and now I have to tell them we don’t have beer because we haven’t any license.”
“Why do you have to tell them anything?”
“All we’ve got to do is put in coils and then we can have draught beer. It’s better than bottled beer, and there’s more money in it. I saw some lovely glasses in Los Angeles the other day. Nice tall ones. The kind people like to drink beer out of.”
“So we got to get coils and glasses now, have we? I tell you I don’t want any beer garden.”
“Frank, don’t you ever want to be something?”
“Listen, get this. I want to get away from this place. I want to go somewhere else, where every time I look around I don’t see the ghost of a goddam Greek jumping out at me, and hear his echo in my dreams, and jump every time the radio comes out with a guitar. I’ve got to go away, do you hear me? I’ve got to get out of here, or I go nuts.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“Oh no, I’m not lying. I never meant anything more in my life.”