I was afraid to marry you, and that's the truth. The dirt-root, cotton-pickin' truth.

Last time, you said you were afraid not to.

Both were true. You sort of overawe me. You know more than I do. I can feel you being so gol-darned critical all the time. You and that smart-alecky Mel. And you don't really approve of me. That's so, ain't it?

You're gettin' to be all the things you used to harpoon.

See what I mean? The bigger I get, the smaller you make me feel. You take Betty Lou...

Larry, don't try to explain. Betty Lou is your public, all wrapped up with yellow ribbons into one cute little package. She's the logical culmination of the great 20th-century love affair between Lonesome Rhodes and his mass audience.

Well, I wish you wasn't so bitter.

I'm not bitter. If I sound stridently female about Miss Drum Majorette, I don't mean to be. I knew you married her just as a way of not marryin' me.

Look, Marcia, I'm not forgettin' what I owe ya. I'm gonna give ya a healthy slice of our whole operation. Say, ten percent of my end. And you won't have to lift your finger with what I'm givin' you.

Givin' me? Givin' me? You're not givin' me anything. And you're not throwin' me off the train like poor Abe Steiner, either. A Face in the Crowd was my idea. The whole idea of Lonesome Rhodes belongs to me. I always should've been an equal partner. Well, now I'm gonna be an equal partner. I'm gonna get somethin' I deserve....AND I WANT IT ON PAPER!

Okay. All right. I'll tell Joey to draw up the papers. Look at yourself in the mirror, Marcia. You'll see a millionaire.