“Oh, darling,” she said. “Tell me why, tell me what you see?”
“It’s been a long and winding road, but after the things we said today, I’ve got a feeling we can work it out.” His voice blurred by rock and roll music. “Thank you girl.”
They had gone from ‘you never give me your money’ through misery to ‘love you too’.
No reply.
“It’s all too much.”
“What you’re doing?”
“Martha, my dear, money, that’s what I want.”
A long, long, long wait.
“Not a second time,” she said, “let it be, mean Mr. Mustard, you’re like the taxman.”
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