Bert: You know, begging you pardon, but the one who my heart goes out for is your father. There he is in that cold, heartless bank day after day, hemmed in by mounds of cold, heartless money. I don't like to see any living thing caged up.
Jane: Father in a cage?
Bert: They makes cages in all sizes and shapes, you know. Bank-shaped some of 'em, carpets and all.
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