Vivian: So you're a private detective. I didn't know they existed, except in books. Or else they were greasy little men snooping around hotel corridors. My, you're a mess, aren't you?
Marlowe: I'm not very tall either. Next time, I'll come on stilts, wear a white tie and carry a tennis racket.
Vivian: I doubt if even that would help. Now this business of Dad's. You think you can handle it for him?
Marlowe: It shouldn't be too tough.
Vivian: Really? I would have thought a case like that took a little effort.
Marlowe: Not too much.
Vivian: What will your first step be?
Marlowe: The usual one.
Vivian: I didn't know there was a usual one.
Marlowe: Oh sure there is. It comes complete with diagrams on page forty-seven of 'How to Be a Detective in Ten Easy Lessons' correspondence school textbook. And, uh, your father offered me a drink.
Vivian: You must have read another one on how to be a comedian.
Marlowe: Did you hear what I said about the drink?
Vivian: I'm quite serious, Mr. Marlowe, my father...
Marlowe: I said your father...
Vivian: Help yourself! Now look, Mr. Marlowe. My father's not well, and I want this case handled with the least possible worry to him.
Marlowe: That's just the way I was going to handle it.
Vivian: I see. No professional secrets?
Marlowe: Nope.
Vivian: I thought you wanted a drink.
Marlowe: I've changed my mind.
Vivian: Then what - ? How did you like Dad?
Marlowe: I liked him.
Vivian: He liked Sean, Sean Regan. I suppose you know who he is.
Marlowe: Uh, huh.
Vivian: You don't have to play poker with me, Mr. Marlowe. Dad wants to find him, doesn't he?
Marlowe: Do you?
Vivian: Of course I do. It wasn't right for him to go off like that. He broke Dad's heart, although he won't say much about it. Or did he?
Marlowe: Why don't you ask him?
Vivian: You know, I don't see what there is to be cagey about, Mr. Marlowe. And I don't like your manners.
Marlowe: I'm not crazy about yours. I didn't ask to see you. I don't mind if you don't like my manners. I don't like them myself. They're pretty bad. I grieve over them long winter evenings. And I don't mind your ritzing me, or drinking your lunch out of a bottle, but don't waste your time trying to cross-examine me.
Vivian: People don't talk to me like that.
Marlowe: Ohhh.
Vivian: Do you always think you can handle people like, uh, trained seals?
Marlowe: Uh, huh. I usually get away with it, too.
Vivian: How nice for you.
Marlowe: Just what is it you're afraid of?
Vivian: Dad didn't want to talk to you about Sean at all, did he?
Marlowe: Didn't he?
Vivian: Would you find him if Dad wanted you to?
Marlowe: Maybe...I'm wasting your time. Goodbye, Mrs. Rutledge.
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