“I’m downtrodden myself, Nancy.”
She smiled in her turn.
“You don’t look very downtrodden to me,” she said. “You’ve got everything to live for.”
“Everything?”
“Well, money and freedom and—and—”
“Money is the only thing I’ve got that you haven’t, and that doesn’t mean much unless you can share it with the person you love.”
“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Nancy said unexpectedly. “What’s that scar on your forehead?”
“That’s a scratch I got.”
“How?”
“Shaving or fighting, or something like that.”