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[Marge has found Dickie's rings in Tom's pocket; Tom is about to kill her to keep her quiet]
Marge Sherwood: [terrified] I wasn't snooping. I was just looking for a needle and thread to mend my bra.
Tom Ripley: That scent you're wearing... I bought that for you, not Dickie. The thing about Dickie... so many things... That day when he was late coming back from Rome? I tried to tell you this. He was with another girl. I'm not talking about Meredith, either. Another girl who we met in a bar. He couldn't be faithful for five minutes. So when he makes a promise, it doesn't mean what it means when you make a promise, or I make a promise. He has so many realities, Dickie, and he believes them all. He lies, he lies, and that's his... and half the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it! Today, I actually started wondering if he may have actually killed Freddie.
[Marge notices that blood is seeping into Tom's robe pocket, obviously from a concealed knife]
Tom Ripley: He would get so crazy if anyone contradicted him — well, you know that. You know that. And that's the irony, Marge — I loved you. You may as well know that now. I loved you. I don't know, maybe it's grotesque of me to say that now, so... just write it on a piece of paper and save it for a rainy day. "Tom loves me." "Tom loves me."
Marge Sherwood: Why do you have Dickie's rings?
Tom Ripley: I told you. He gave them to me.
Marge Sherwood: Why? When?
Tom Ripley: I feel as if you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying.
Marge Sherwood: I don't believe you!
Tom Ripley: It's all true.
Marge Sherwood: I don't believe a single word you've said!
Tom Ripley: Marge, you're shivering, look at you. Can I hold you? Please, let me hold you.
[Marge screams in fright, when suddenly Peter walks through the door]
Marge: [running into his arms, sobbing] Oh, God, Peter! Get me out of here, get me out of here!
Peter Smith-Kingsley: Marge, what's going on? Tom, are you okay?
Tom Ripley You try. You try talking to her. I give up.
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