"You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good
nutrition's given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent
Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed:
pure West Virginia. What is your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp?"
