"Oh. Sorry.... To dat quack, Dr. Freud." "Wouldn't 'kvack' be more authentic?" "Maybe, but I can't feel it, Mr. Sachs. There's a value missing." "That's because you've got your dialects mixed. I know Dr. Livingston wouldn't speak low Dutch. I have a talent for never being wrong." "Livingston? I thought we were doing Pasteur. Cue, please." "You see, Dr. Livingston, bosoms are my problem." "Proceed, Mr. Stanley." "They ... I know this sounds silly ... but they all look alike. And there's always two. Two! Two! Two! Why can't there ever be an odd number? Sometimes I think I'll go mad, do you hear? Mad! Mad! Mad!" "Steady on, old man.... (Pipe business).... Pity you haven't read my monograph on Trichinopoly ashes and busts. I can distinguish twenty-four varieties by their action." "Amazing!" "Elementary. There's the plainbeat bust, the backfall bust, the double backfall, the springer, the shaked elevation, the turn, the battery, the double relish...." "Sam!" Lennox interrupted in delight. "Where did you find those ever-lovin' words?" "It's musical ornamentation," Cooper grinned. "Didn't I ever tell you? They're the old names for trills and grace notes and such, but they kind of fit the front ornamentation of ladies too, don't they?" Lennox nodded as he jotted down the words in his gimmick book. "Kay Hill, for instance. She's the close shake. Irma Mason's the battery. All directions. The dancers are strictly the plainbeat. One bounce to a step. Robin's the shaked elevation. Your girl's the double relish." "Who? Gabby?" Lennox blushed. "I noticed at the party. One of the few things I did notice, outside of that hassle with Tooky Ween...." "I'm sorry about that, Sam, but I had to protect you. You would have...." "And something Suidi let slip." "Oh? What he let slip?" "It was your party." "It may have been my idea, but--" "It was your bankroll." "Oh. He blew it. In French or English?" Cooper hoisted himself up on the piano and sat swinging his legs. Then he began to speak, choosing his words carefully. "I appreciate what you tried to do, Jake.... But let me tell you how. Last year a kid cousin of mine bought me a birthday present. He saved up his allowance and bought the best present he could think of ... a bag of marbles." "Immies," Lennox corrected absently. "What?" "They call them immies on The Rock." "All right, immies. I appreciated that present, Jake. I was really touched. I appreciated your present the same way. It touched me the same way. You understand?" "No." "The kid didn't give me anything I could use. He gave me what he loved." "You mean I'm a kid?" "No, Jake. You gave me the thing you love most. And when you found out I didn't want any part of it, you tried to make me want it. You don't understand anybody not wanting to be a big wheel in the business, do you? That's your bag of immies." "What the hell are we working for?" "Fun." "Fun's not the answer. We've got to have something to show."