"I ain't so well, I tell you, Becky."
"Last time when all you had was the neuralgia, and you came home from the store like you was dying, Dr. Ellenburg told me hisself right here on this porch that never did he know a man so nervous of dying like you."
"I can't help it, Becky."
"If I was so afraid like you of dying, Julius, not one meal could I enjoy. A healthy man like you with nothing but the rheumatism and a little asthma. Only last week you came home pale like a ghost with a pain in your side, when it wasn't nothing but where your pipe burnt a hole in your pants pocket to give me some more mending to do."
"Just for five minutes you should have felt that pain!"
"Honest, Julius, to be a coward like you for dying it ain't nice—honest, it ain't."
"Always, Becky, when I think I ain't always going to be with you and the children such a feeling comes over me."
"Ach, Julius, be quiet! Without you I might just as well be dead, too."
"I'm getting old, Becky; sixty-six ain't no spring chicken no more."
"That's right, Julius; stick knives in me."