Macaulay Connor: The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.
Elizabeth Imbrie: I remember your honeymoon quite well. You and she on a little sail boat, the "True Love", wasn't it?
C. K. Dexter Haven: Yes it was. How did you know?
Elizabeth Imbrie: I was the only photographer whose camera you didn't smash. You were terribly nice about it. You threw it in the ocean.
Macaulay Connor: Oh, one of those.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Yes I had the strange notion that our honeymoon was our own.
Tracy Lord: I can't make you out at all now.
Macaulay Connor: I thought I was easy.
Tracy Lord: So did I. But you're not. You talk so big and tough and then you write like this. Which is which?
Macaulay Connor: Both. I guess.
Tracy Lord: No. No, I believe you put the toughness down to save your skin.
Macaulay Connor: You think so?
Tracy Lord: Yes. I know a little about that.
Macaulay Connor: You do?
Tracy Lord: Quite a lot.
Macaulay Connor: Champagne's funny stuff. I'm used to whiskey. Whiskey is a slap on the back, and champagne's heavy mist before my eyes.
Macaulay Connor: This is the Bridal Suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer?
Margaret Lord: What? Who is this?
Macaulay Connor: This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son.
Margaret Lord: Hello? Hello?
Tracy Lord: What's the matter?
Margaret Lord: One of the servants has been at the sherry again.
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