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Ficsur
Suburban. [There is a pause.]
Liliom
[Bursts out suddenly in a rather grotesquely childish and overstrained lament.] O God, what a dirty life I'm leading—God, God!
Ficsur
[Reassuring him benevolently.] Over in America it will be better, all right.
Liliom
What's over there?
Ficsur
[Virtuously.] Factories . . . industries
Young Hollunder
[To the Policeman.] Now, quite still, please. One, two, three. [Deftly removes the cover of the lens and in a few seconds restores it.] Thank you.
Mother Hollunder
The picture will be ready in five minutes.
Policeman
Good. I'll come back in five minutes. How much do I owe you?
