“It's temperamental? [It flares] Ah!—thank you. [He starts away again] Hey! [He turns again, still more uncertainly. She goes close to him] Uh—what time is it?
YOUNG MAN: Fifteen of seven, ma'am. BLANCHE: So late? Don't you just love these long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour—but a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands—and who knows what to do with it?
[She touches his shoulders.] You—uh—didn't get wet in the rain?
YOUNG MAN: No, ma'am. I stepped inside.
BLANCHE: In a drug store? And had a soda?”