“...    'How old is he?' the policeman asked Mrs. Reilly.    'I am thirty,' Ignatius said condescendingly.    'You got a job?'    'Ignatius hasta help me at home,' Mrs. Reilly said. Her initial courage was failing a little, and she began to twist the lute string with the cord on the cake boxes. 'I got terrible arthuritis.'    'I dust a bit,' Ignatius told the policeman. 'In addition, I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.'...”

“I dust a bit, Ignatius told the policeman. In addition I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”

“I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”

“...When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occassional cheese dip.”

“I bet you cook good, huh?" Darlene asked."Mother doesn't cook," Ignatius said dogmatically."She burns.”

“Canned food is a perversion,' Ignatius said. 'I suspect that it is ultimately very damaging to the soul.”

“Ignatius, all at once you're your horrible old self. All at once I think I'm making a very big mistake.”