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.

[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.

[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.