Harriet Sinton: It was real sweet of you to buy that bottle, hun. You got real nice manners, Joe. I like nice manners. I like you, hun. I like you a lot. “My love is like a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June. My love is like a melody that’s sweetly played in tune.” You like poetry, hun?  That’s Robert Burns. “A Red, Red Rose.” George hated poetry. He hit me once when I recited Robert Burns. He hit me right in the eye. George was no good.
Joe Norson: George?
Harriet Sinton: My fiancé. My ex-fiancé. George had no manners at all.