"Hey, swamp! Hey swampy!"
“Yes, Martha? Can I get you something?”
“Ah, well, sure. You can, um, light my cigarette, if you’re of a mind to.”
“No. There are limits. I mean, a man can put up with only so much without he descends a rung or two on the old evolutionary ladder, which is up your line. Now, I will hold your hand when it’s dark and you’re afraid of the boogeyman and I will tote your gin bottles out after midnight so no one can see but I will not light your cigarette. And that, as they say, is that.”