Myra Lester

— I knew I wouldn't sleep so I've been walking in the garden, confiding my good luck to the stars.
— Were they pleased?
— No, they seemed indifferent. They went on glittering, the little exhibitionists!

— I should think a dancer's muscles would be like a strongman.
— Oh, not quite. That's a bit dreadful. We try to combine slenderness with strength.

— It's been so quick. Are you quite, quite sure?
— Myra, I was never so sure of anything in my life. In the moment you left me after the air raid, I knew I must find you again. I've found you and I'll never let you go. Does that answer you?

— The ballet was beautiful.
— Madame didn't think so.
— Well, experts never know — it takes outsiders to know, and I tell you, it was beautiful.
— That certainly proves you're an outsider.

— Good night, darling.
— Goodbye, darling.
— Why goodbye when it's only till morning?
— Because, every parting from you is — is like a little eternity.

— This hateful war.
— Yes, I suppose it is. And yet there's — I don't know — a certain amount of excitement about it too. Round the corner of every second, the fascination of the unknown. We're both facing it, this instance.
— No, we face the unknown in peacetime too.
— You're rather matter-of-fact, aren't you?
— Yes. You're rather romantic, aren't you?

— How have we been living?
— What difference does it make, as long as we live.
— Where's the money coming from? Where are you getting it?
— Where do you think I've been getting it? I was trying to keep it from you, but... well, you know now.
— You did it for me...
— No I didn't! I'd a done it anyhow. C'est La Guerre. No jobs. No boys who want to marry you. Only men who want to kill a few hours, 'cause they know it may be their last.