- [first lines]
- Man Selling French Postcards: [scene: a Paris street cafe] Des cartes postales, m'sieur? Des cartes postales, sir?
- [Man seated with lady shoos the vendor away]
- Man Selling French Postcards: [approaching Gordon and Hector's table] Postal cards, m'sier? *Dirty* postcards?
- Hector Stribling: [turning away, disgusted] Uh!
- Gordon Evers: Charming.
- [taking the cards]
- Gordon Evers: Would you like to look at them, Hector?
- Hector Stribling: Certainly not!
- Gordon Evers: How much are they?
- Man Selling French Postcards: Twenty francs.
- Gordon Evers: There you are.
- Man Selling French Postcards: Merci m'sieur. Merci.
- [Gordon tears up the cards, bows to the vendor, and throws the pieces away]
- Hector Stribling: Why... why on earth did you do that?
- Gordon Evers: Who knows, it may save the soul of some American tourist.
- Hector Stribling: You're a queer duck, Gordon. You've a future before you if you'd only follow it up. Those last cases I sent you, you handled brilliantly. And suddenly-this sort of thing. Why don't you come back to London with us tomorrow? I can get you a dozen briefs!
- Gordon Evers: I'm through with London. I may go out to the East again, Doctor says England's too damp for me.
- Hector Stribling: Nonsense. Think of your work.
- Gordon Evers: My dear Hector, I've no intention of spending the rest of my life in an ill-ventilated courtroom waiting for twelve total strangers to make up their minds.
- Hector Stribling: Oh, you'll never succeed at anything with that kind of attitude.
- Gordon Evers: I shall succeed in keeping out of courtrooms.
- Hector Stribling: Are you coming with us tonight or aren't you?
- Gordon Evers: No.
- [pause]
- Gordon Evers: Is it white tie or dinner jacket?
- Hector Stribling: Dinner jacket.
- Gordon Evers: Then I shall come. You see, my valet ran away with my evening dress.
- Hector Stribling: Why not call the police; have the fellow arrested?
- Gordon Evers: Wearing evening dress is punishment enough.
- [last lines]
- Gordon Evers: Darling, are you quite sure this isn't heaven?
- Sarah Cazenove: I'm quite sure it is.
- Gordon Evers: What do you think, Hector?
- Hector Stribling: Bless you, my children, but don't deceive yourselves. This not heaven. It's too infernally hot.
- [last lines]
- Gordon Evers: Darling, are you quite sure this isn't heaven?
- Sarah Cazenove: I'm quite sure it is.
- Gordon Evers: What do you think, Hector?
- Hector Stribling: Bless you, my children, but don't deceive yourselves. This is not heaven. It's too infernally hot.