Bill's laconic admission (in the style of a bad pulp novel) of his own sexuality:
Cloquet: I've seen you around, but I had no idea you were queer. Bill: Queer? Cloquet:[leers] I saw you arrive with those three Interzone boys. What an entrance. You all looked very... familiar with each other. Bill:[gulps] Queer. A curse. Been in our family for generations. The Lees have always been perverts. I shall never forget the unspeakable horror that froze the lymph in my glands when the baneful word seared my reeling brain: "I was a homosexual." I thought of the painted simpering female impersonators I'd seen in a Baltimore nightclub. Could it be possible I was one of those subhuman things? I walked the streets in a daze like a man with a light concussion. I would've destroyed myself. And a wise old queen — Bobo, we called her — taught me that I had a duty to live and bear my burden proudly for all to see. Poor Bobo came to a sticky end—he was riding in the Duc du Ventre's Hispano-Suiza when his falling hemorrhoids blew out of the car and wrapped around the rear wheel. He was completely gutted, leaving an empty shell sitting there on the giraffe-skin upholstery. Even the eyes and the brain went, with a horrible schlupping sound. The duke says he will carry that ghastly schlup with him to his mausoleum.
" (warning: clip is NSFW).