oh, let 'em alone. i wish i was up there with them.
hope you have a good trip, george. uncle billy and i are going to miss you.
oh, i had another tussle with potter today.
i thought when we put him on the board of directors, he'd ease up on us a little bit.
oh, he's a sick man. frustrated and sick. sick in his mind, sick in his soul, if he has one. hates everybody that has anything that he can't have. hates us mostly, i guess.
so long, son.
no gin tonight, son.
no, son, not one drop.
pretty much. you know, george, wish we could send harry to college with you. your mother and i talked it over half the night.
he's pretty young for that job.
maybe you were born older, george.
i say, maybe you were born older. i suppose you've decided what you're going to do when you get out of college.
still after that first million before you're thirty.
of course, it's just a hope, but you wouldn't consider coming back to the building and loan, would you?
i know it's soon to talk about it.
you know, george, i feel that in a small way we are doing something important. satisfying a fundamental urge. it's deep in the race for a man to want his own roof and walls and fireplace, and we're helping him get those things in our shabby little office.
yes.  yes.  you're right, son.
this town is no place for any man unless he's willing to crawl to potter. you've got talent, son. you get yourself an education. then get out of here.
have a good time, son.