The Doctor. No, not tomorrow. Perhaps in a month, perhaps longer.
The Girl. Will I get sorry ’fore I go?
The Doctor. How can I tell? But what does it matter? Why do you want to be sorry especially? What good would it do? It is all passed, isn’t it? Nothing can change that.
The Girl. But I gotta be—to get in.
The Doctor. You seem very sure on that point.
The Girl. But everybody says I gotta be.
The Doctor. What is the use saying it or thinking it when nobody knows?
The Girl. What you sayin’?
The Doctor. You and I can believe differently if we want to. But why in the world should you be asking me all these hard questions? I’ve never been to Heaven have I? I don’t know whether you have to be sorry to get in or not. How do you suppose they found all that out?
The Girl. But aint I gotta be punished somewhere till I git sorry?