And your picture. I always illustrate my own stories, and I
can draw your face from memory.
CASE WORKER. [_Whining._] But I must turn in some kind of a report.
MARTIN. You lost it! And Uncle Sam forgot it. It's only one of ten
million. [_He escorts her to door._]
CASE WORKER. [_As she storms out._] I ought to report the whole lot
of you to the police.
KATE. [_As she further reduces the crumpled report to fragments and
tosses them into wastebasket._]. I don't know how I managed to keep
still as long as I did. I wanted to choke her.
TED. I'm sorry I ever made the application.
KATE. Why did you do it?
TED. It was so long ago, I thought they'd forgotten it.
MARTIN. Hang it, I shouldn't have lost my temper. I approve of
relief. You should be on relief, Ted--of course you should.
TED. It was these clothes.
MARTIN. That's tough luck. That angel of mercy should have seen you
yesterday. She would have adored that hole in your elbow.
KATE. Did you really want to be on relief?
TED. I need a job. The government will give one a job, but only if
he goes on relief first.
MARTIN. That's it. First you go broke, then you go hungry. Then you
beg, then you take charity. Then you rake leaves--then the
taxpayers raise hell, and throw the rascals out to save the
Constitution.
KATE. [_To_ MARTIN.] Does a man get work as soon as he gets on
relief?
MARTIN.
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