“Uncle Jack,” she said. “What am I going to do about Hank?” “What you will eventually,” he said. “Let him down easy?” “Um hum.” “Why?” “He’s not your kind.” Love whom you will, marry your own kind. “Look, I’m not going to argue with you over the relative merits of trash – ” “That has nothing to do with it. I’m tired of you. I want my supper.”
