Tell me, dear. You're a woman. You're the sweet, unspoiled child I knew you were. But...

Mrs. Titcomb: Tell me, dear. You're a woman. You're the sweet, unspoiled child I knew you were. But don't you ever... in the midst of the grueling pace of your career... doesn't there ever come a longing for... the right of all womanhood? Lola Burns: Uh... let' see, uh... you mean that, uh... Mrs. Titcomb: I mean, don't you ever find yourself listening for the patter of little feet? Lola Burns: Why... oh, yes, Mrs. Titcomb. Yes. Mrs. Titcomb: The call of motherhood is so strong in some women. The call of fatherhood in men, too. Sometimes I think that's what killed Mr. Titcomb. Oh, well, we must all bear the cross that's given us, I always say.