I was crazy about you,--that's straight,--but I didn't realize it until you
ran off, and then I went after you,--but it was no good! I don't claim
to have been square with you, and I've been thinking--well, that I'm
responsible.
MINNIE. Responsible for what?
GEORGE. Well-for your throwing yourself away down there at Newcastle.
You're too good.
MINNIE (with heat). Throwing myself away?
GEORGE. Didn't you? Didn't you break loose?--have a good time?
MINNIE. Why wouldn't I have a good time? That's what you were having,
--a good time with me,--wasn't it? And say, did you ever stop to think
what one day of a working girl's life was like?
GEORGE. One day?
MINNIE. With an alarm clock scaring you out of sweet dreams in the
winter, while it's dark, and you get up and dress in the cold and heat a
little coffee over a lamp and beat it for the factory,--and stand on your
feet all morning, in a noise that would deafen you, feeding a thing you
ain't got no interest in? It don't never need no rest! By eleven
o'clock you think you're all in, that the morning'll never end, but at
noon you get a twenty five cent feed that lasts you until about five in
the afternoon,--and then you don't know which way the machine's headed.
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