"That your precious Roger is a dealer in magic and spells; that you've already learned flying on a broomstick and practice it on nights when the moon is full; that you're hideously ugly; that you're wonderfully beautiful; that you live in a tree; that you sleep in a coffin; that you're digging for gold; that you've found the recipe for diamonds; that you've—"
"Now you're making fun of me," he laughed as she paused for lack of breath.
"I'm not. If there's anything that you are or aren't that I haven't heard, I can't imagine what it is. In other words, Jerry, you're the mystery of the county. Aren't you glad?"
"Glad? Of course not. It's all such utter rot."
"Of course. But doesn't it make you feel mysterious?"
"Not a bit."
"Doesn't it ever occur to you how important a person you are?"
"How—important?"
"To begin with, of course, you're fabulously wealthy. You knew that, didn't you?"
"Oh, I suppose I've got some money, but I don't let it worry me."