Doralee: So, you’ve been tellin’ everybody I’ve been sleepin’ with ya, huh? Well that explains it! That’s why these people treat me like some dime-store floozy. They think I’m screwin’ the boss! Ohh, and you just love it, don’t you? It gives you some sort of cheap thrill like knockin’ over pencils and pickin’ up papers! Get your scummy hands offa me! Look I’ve been straight with you since the first day I got here, and I’ve put up with all of your pinchin’ and starin’ and chasin’ me around the desk because I need this job. But this is the last straw! Look, I’ve got a gun out there in my purse. Up until now I’ve been forgivin’ and forgettin’ because of the way I was brought up, but I’ll tell you one thing. If you ever say another word about me or make another indecent proposal, I’m gonna get that gun of mine, and I’m gonna change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot! And don’t think I can’t do it.
Lola Weixel: I now that lots of the women who went to training with me and worked with me believed that we were the new woman. We believed it. I think to America at large, while they may have known what our contribution was to the production of this country, we were largely a joke. A big joke. A shapely girl with a hot sign on her pants, a girl who was quivering for her man to come home and go back to the kitchen. That’s exactly the picture that was given. And I think that they prepare women psychologically for whatever role the society feels at that particular point they want her to play. After losing so many men, America wanted babies. And we wanted babies. It’s okay. But we gave up everything for that. We gave up everything.
Jeannine: What kind of music do you like?
Conrad “Con” Jarrett: Oh, uh. . .modern jazz. I like folk rock. . .spoon on a glass.
Jeannine: Spoon on a glass? Oh, you mean, like, table spoons? Oh dear. Why do I ask dumb questions? I’m just showing off. Why is it so hard the first time you talk to somebody?
Conrad “Con” Jarrett: You make it look easy.
Hilary van Doren: You see, I was offered this place in the San Francisco Ballet. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m gonna take it. I don’t care what they think. I’m a good dancer. Better than good. Maybe even the best in the school. And that’s not conceit, it’s just simple honesty. If I stay in New York, everyone will think I bought my way into ABT. And I’m not starving myself for Balanchine’s City Ballet. Not that I mind doing the corps de ballet bullshit. I’d sooner do it out of town. I’ll pay my dues on the west coast, come back to New York a star. You see, I’ve always had this crazy dream of dancing all the classical roles before I’m twenty-one. I want Giselles and Coppélias coming out of my feet. And Sleeping Beauties, and the Swan. I want bravos in Stuttgart and Leningrad and Paris. Maybe even a ballet created especially for me. You see? There’s no room for a baby.
Nurse: Will this be Master Charge or American Express, honey?