Sam was happy over there. I spoke to him on the phone and I heard grass and clouds in his voice.
Tell me what to do, people. Murder or suicide? I know you’re all bastards; you haven’t been listening. Tomorrow he will come back, my husband the painter.
You tell me, Loth. Yes, I recognized you immediately. My first husband, he’s sitting right there, folks. He hasn’t lost his hair or his looks at all. Still the elegant man. Seems to have materialized all the way from France. The husband who pushed my talents and spoiled my tastes. We have to have a chat in a minute. Please stay. Good to see you. Tell me, all of you, what shall I do? Thank you. A tune?
Thank you again. Goodnight.