“Sure. Sure. He's okay. Aren't you, Cat? Poor old Cat. Poor slob. Poor slob without a name. I don't have the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other. We just took up one day. I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is, but I know what it's like. It's like Tiffany's.”
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