Alice
:
If it wasn't for nervy little Alice, you'd all be sinking your weary bones into the soft recesses of some park bench, with light sleepy coverlets made by the great American press.
Jo
:
Press! That reminds me. I have pressing business.
[she begins to iron her underwear]
Jo
:
Why don't you ditch that ham and get yourself a rich husband.
Alice
:
Rich husband? Hah! I've heared they come that way. Not very often.