When I look at that I feel capable of crime.

I don't know whether you'll understand, but the consideration of what my finer self suffers through sordidness of this sort sometimes makes me think that to rob a bank would be an act of virtue." "I understand," said Elfrida.
"Washerwomen as a class are callous.

I suppose the alkalies they use finally penetrate to their souls.

I said to mine last Thursday, 'But I must be clean, Mrs.Binkley!' and the creature replied, 'I don't see at all, Mr.Ticks' -- she has an odious habit of calling me Mr.Ticks--'why you shouldn't go dirty occasional.' She seemed to think she had made a joke!" "They live to be paid," Elfrida said, with hard philosophy, and then she questioned him delicately about his play.
Could she induce him to show it to her, some day?
Her opinion was worth nothing really--oh no, absolutely nothing--but it would be a pleasure if Golightly were _sure_ he didn't mind.
Golightly found a difficulty in selecting phrases repressive enough to be artistic, in which to tell her that he would be delighted.
When Mr.Ticke came in that evening he found upon his dressing-table a thick square envelope addressed to him in Elfrida's suggestive hand.

With his fingers and thumb he immediately detected a round hardness in one corner, and he took some pains to open the letter so that nothing should fall out.