Reineman: Look, Mr. Potter, it's no skin off my nose. I'm just your little rent collector. But you can't laugh off this Bailey Park any more. Look at it...Fifteen years ago, a half-dozen houses stuck here and there. There's the old cemetery, squirrels, buttercups, daisies. Used to hunt rabbits there myself. Look at it today. Dozens of the prettiest little homes you ever saw. Ninety percent owned by suckers who used to pay rent to you. Your Potter's Field, my dear Mr. Employer, is becoming just that. And are the local yokels making with those David and Goliath wisecracks!
Potter: Oh, they are, are they? Even though they know the Baileys haven't made a dime out of it.
Reineman: You know very well why. The Baileys were all chumps. Every one of these homes is worth twice what it cost the Building and Loan to build. If I were you, Mr. Potter...
Potter: Well, you are not me.
Reineman: As I say, it's no skin off my nose. But one of these days this bright young man is going to be asking George Bailey for a job.
Potter: The Bailey family has been a boil on my neck long enough.
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