“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.”
“Now me,” said Mr. Vandemar.“What number am I thinking of?” “I beg your pardon?” “What number am I thinking of?” repeated Mr. Vandemar. “It’s between one and a lot,” he added, helpfully.”
“I beg your pardon. I’m not gross. (Simone)Grody to the max. Gag me with a spoon. I’ve seen you in the mornings. You’re not exactly well coiffed. (Jesse)”
“Begging your pardon, sir....One population can't make peace with another by force.”
“You are TSTL. I beg your pardon. Too stupid to live.”
“I beg your pardon," I said. "But you do intend to eat me?”