GEO.: Remember the other guy I discovered this year was Freud. You, unfortunately, never read any, and wouldn't even when I gave you some--

SAL.: I had courses to study for, George.

GEO.: And so we never could talk about all those things--those stupid, simple little things--that you now find so unexpected.

SAL.: But George, you know Freud is outside my field of concentration.

GEO.: Where are my glasses?

SAL.: And when a girl doesn't know what to expect from a boy, and he asks her to make a terrible commitment to him, why, what can she do?

GEO.: What's so terrible about commitment?

SAL.: I just meant a large, important commitment.

GEO.: Am I asking you to send the troops into South Boston?

SAL.: I mean when you make a commitment you want it to be permanent.

GEO.: You should read some Heraclitus some time. Anyhow, if that button had popped off instead of my asking you to--

SAL.: That's what I mean, sordid, George.

GEO.: "The twilight walks by the Charles, hand in hand"--did we ever do anything but hold hands? "The Wednesday night dinners"--when I tried to rub knees with you under the table you spilled milk up my sleeve. "The early morning bicycle rides"--what can you do on a bike?

SAL.: You never talked this way before, George. It's not delicate.

GEO.: Oh, God, why did I take off my glasses?