»My mother was a peroxide blonde,« objects Frank Leigh Dearie. »I resemble that remark,« peeps Vidalia. »You resemble an onion,« says Frank. He sighs. »Les mots et les choses, eh?« Vidalia is so concerned about looking smart. »Les choses sont contre nous,« Frank says, spinning Vidalia violently down the length of the long zinc bar.
