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: George, when is this girl going to marry you? George Camrose
: I doubt if she knows hereself, Logan. When are you taking me, Lucy? Lucy Overmire
: George, do you like poetry? George Camrose
: Must I like poetry to be your husband? Lucy Overmire
: We'll be married when the leaves fall. George Camrose
: You see, Logan, she strings me up and lets me swing. You mean the maple leaves that fall early, or the pine needles that never fall at all?
: You have strange friends, Jack. Jack Lestrade
: I didn't say that I like him or that I trust him. George Camrose
: What's your idea of a friend? Jack Lestrade
: Any man, I suppose, who believes as I do that the human race is a horrible mistake.
: It's so peaceful here. George Camrose
: The illusion of peace is upon us. Lucy Overmire
: You sound rather jaded. George Camrose
: Oh, these cabin raisers jade me. People planting themselves in one rough spot for the rest of their lives. I'm more for mansions and plush furniture.
: We're all careless with gold. It's the cheapest thing in camp.
: Uh, are you feeling lucky tonight? George Camrose
: I always *feel* lucky. That's my trouble.