At six o'clock that evening the dancers were in their dressing-room. They talked and laughed and put on their red and black dresses for Faust. But Meg Giry was very quiet.
Then my father said, " Thank God she didn't. I went home, met your mother, and we've been completely happy. We often joke about that youthful love romance."
Clara and the researcher share a laugh about the possibility that they could just have come across the tracks of Paul Bunyan, but there's no hoofprint for Babe the Blue Ox, so it's more likely to be the elusive Bigfoot.
And I do remember, you know, we laugh now because I know Carl personally and my husband knows him and he is the nicest guy, but there was that sense of, oh my gosh, it's Carl Rove.