“Good Heavens. An Adam’s apple, sloping shoulders and a Cockney accent.”
“I have a Cockney accent, Miriam.”
“...”
“Don’t go about classifying with your ears. People, you know, are very much alike.”
“They’re utterly different.”
“Your vanity. Go on with your Taylors.”
“They are very much like other people.”
“With my Taylors. I’m interested; really.”
“Well, suddenly you are in their kitchen. White walls and aluminium and a smell of fruit. Do you know the smell of root vegetables cooking slowly in a casserole?”
“I’ll imagine it. Right. Where are the Taylors?”