"You're very exacting, Mr. Cornith!"
"Naturally. The requirements of Lucy Hollowell demand an exacting man. At least that's what the Foundation reports."
"Then you are giving her serious thought?"
"None whatever! She's too skinny. If she just had an ounce more meat on her bones, I'd marry her and not even ask her name. But I don't want to live the balance of my days with a female who looks like an animated skeleton, who has to stand twice in the same spot to cast a shadow, who has to drink tomato juice to keep you from looking through her."
"How about the woman of the same height who weighs a hundred and twenty-three pounds, four ounces."
"A beef-trust like that! Count me out. She'd cast her shadow twice. It would take a week to hug her, a little at a time. She'd shake the house down every time she walked across the floor. Impossible to keep her in clothes. I'd need a nylon and linen factory to supply the material for one outfit. No! I'd rather have a skeleton than a whale."
"Then you'll consider Lucy Hollowell?"
"I didn't say that. I wouldn't mind taking a look at her from a distance, because if she does fit the other specifications she must be something out of a dream. Too bad she has to be built like a rail."
"Not like a rail, Mr. Cornith."