"I can't help that, can I?"

"Why, there--there's nothing on God's earth I hate, Jimmie, like I hate
that Bargain-Basement. When I think it's down there in that manhole I've
spent the best years of my life, I--I wanna die. The day I get out of it,
the day I don't have to punch that old time-clock down there next to the
Complaints and Adjustment Desk, I--I'll never put my foot below sidewalk
level again to the hour I die. Not even if it was to take a walk in my own
gold-mine."

"It ain't exactly a garden of roses down there."

"Why, I hate it so terrible, Jimmie, that sometimes I wake up nights
gritting my teeth with the smell of steam-pipes and the tramp of feet on
the glass sidewalk up over me. Oh. God! you dunno--you dunno!"

"When it comes to that the main floor ain't exactly a maiden's dream, or a
fellow's, for that matter."

"With a man it's different, It's his job in life, earning, and--and the
woman making the two ends of it meet. That's why, Jimmie, these last
two years and eight months, if not for what I was hoping for us,
why--why--I--why, on your twenty a week, Jimmie, there's nobody could run
a flat like I could. Why, the days wouldn't be long enough to putter in.
I--Don't throw away what I been building up for us, Jimmie, step by step!
Don't, Jimmie!"

"Good Lord, girl! You deserve better 'n me."