Eve: I tipped the steward five dollars to seat you here if you should come in.
Roger: Is that a proposition?
Eve: I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
Roger: You've already eaten!
Eve: But you haven't.
Roger: Oh, you're that type.
Eve: What type?
Roger: Honest.
Eve: Not really.
Roger: Good, because honest women frighten me.
Eve: Why?
Roger: I don't know. Somehow they seem to put me at a disadvantage.
Eve: Because you're not honest with them?
Roger: Exactly.
Roger: The moment I meet an attractive woman, I have to start pretending I have no desire to make love to her.
Eve: What makes you think you have to conceal it?
Roger: She might find the idea objectionable.
Eve: Then again, she might not.
Eve: I'm Eve Kendall. I'm twenty-six and unmarried. Now you know everything.
Roger: Tell me. What do you do besides lure men to their doom on the Twentieth Century Limited?
Eve: I'm an industrial designer.
Roger: Jack Phillips. Western sales manager for Kingby Electronics.
Eve: No, you're not. You're Roger Thornhill of Madison Avenue, and you're wanted for murder on every front page in America, and don't be so modest.
Roger: Whoops!
Eve: Oh, don't worry, I won't say a word.
Roger: How come?
Eve: I told you. It's a nice face.
Roger: Is that the only reason?
Eve: It's going to be a long night.
Roger: True.
Eve: And I don't particularly like the book I've started.
Roger: Ahhh.
Eve: You know what I mean?
Roger: Uh, let me think. [Pause] Yes, I know exactly what you mean...
Eve: Incidentally, I wouldn't order any dessert if I were you.
Roger: I get the message.
Eve: That isn't exactly what I meant. This train seems to be making an unscheduled stop, and I just saw two men get out of a police car as we pulled into the station. They weren't smiling.
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