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           ShetalkssomemoreaboutsomeofHarding’sfriendswhoshewisheswouldquitdroppingaroundthehouselookingforhim."Youknowthetype,don’tyou,Mack?"shesays."Thehoity-toityboyswiththenicelonghaircombedsoperfectlyandthelimplittlewriststhatflipsonice."Hardingasksherifitwasonlyhimthattheyweredroppingaroundtosee,andshesaysanymanthatdropsaroundtoseeherflipsmorethanhisdamnedlimpwrists.

           Shestandssuddenlyandsaysit’stimeforhertogo.ShetakesMcMurphy’shandandtellshimshehopessheseeshimagainsometimeandshewalksoutofthelibrary.McMurphycan’tsayaword.Attheclackofherhighheelseverybody’sheadcomesupagain,andtheywatchherwalkdownthehalltillsheturnsoutofsight.

           "Whatdoyouthink?"Hardingsays.

           McMurphystarts."She’sgotonehellofasetofchabobs,"isallhecanthinkof."BigasOldLadyRatched’s."

           "Ididn’tmeanphysically,myfriend,Imeanwhatdoyou—"

           "Hell’sbells,Harding!"McMurphyyellssuddenly."Idon’tknowwhattothink!Whatdoyouwantoutofme?Amarriagecounsellor?AllIknowisthis:nobody’sverybiginthefirstplace,anditlookstomelikeeverybodyspendstheirwholelifetearingeverybodyelsedown.Iknowwhatyouwantmetothink;youwantmetofeelsorryforyou,tothinkshe’sarealbitch.Well,youdidn’tmakeherfeellikeanyqueeneither.Well,screwyouand‘whatdoyouthink?’I’vegotworriesofmyownwithoutgettinghookedwithyours.