"First, I'm going to take that saber I got on Queglat and scrape open his scrofula. Then, when he's bleeding nicely, all I have to do is pour a bottle of alcohol on him. Don't you think that will be nice?"
"Yes, dear."
"You know, I'm kinda sorry I went to all the trouble sharpening that saber. After all, it might be more painful if the saber was dull."
"Yes, dear."
"But then, on the other hand...."
"Dear, will you hand me a cigarette?"
"Sure."
He shook out a cigarette, lit it off his and handed it to her.
"So what do you think?"
"It doesn't matter, dear," she said.