I never saw you looking better, Red. You're getting that fine, tawny look.
Oh, we're going to talk about me, are we? Goodie.
It's astonishing what money can do for people, don't you agree, Mr. Connor? Not too much, you know - just more than enough. Now take Tracy for example. (There's) never a blow that hasn't been softened for her. Never a blow that won't be softened. As a matter of fact, she's even changed her shape - she was a dumpy little thing at one time.
Only as it happens, I'm not interested in myself, for the moment.
Not interested in yourself! You're fascinated, Red. You're far and away your favorite person in the world.
Dexter, in case you don't know it -
Of course, Mr. Connor, she's a girl who's generous to a fault.
To a fault, Mr. Connor.
Except to other people's faults. For instance, she never had any understanding of my deep and gorgeous thirst.
That was your problem.
Granted. But you took on that problem with me when you took me, Red. You were no help-mate there. You were a scold.
It was disgusting. It made you so unattractive.
A weakness, sure, and strength is her religion, Mr. Connor. She finds human imperfection unforgiveable. And when I gradually discovered that my relationship to her was supposed to be not that of a loving husband and a good companion, but - [He turns away from her] Oh, never mind.
Say it.
But that of a kind of high priest to a virgin goddess, then my drinks grew deeper and more frequent, that's all. [Mike slides off his chair and leaves them.]
I never considered you as that, nor myself.
You did without knowing it. Oh, and the night that you got drunk on champagne and climbed out on the roof and stood there, NAKED, with your arms out to the moon, wailing like a banshee - [Dexter laughs at the thought.]
I told you I never had the slightest recollection of doing any such thing.
I know. You drew a blank. You wanted to. Mr. Connor, what would you... [He turns and notices Mike has gone] Oh.
A nice story for spies, incidentally.
Too bad we can't supply photographs of you on the roof.
