Wade Hatton: Miss Irving, I'll not be troubling you with any further apologies but I would like you to know that if ever I could be of any sevice to you, I should be only too happy...
Abbie Irving: Thank you. The only way you could be of service to me is to keep out of my sight.

Wade Hatton: Now if everyone in the camp would obey orders as willingly and charmingly as that, we wouldn't have any trouble.

Wade Hatton: Of course you realize that people in general are inclined to think that a newspaper office is an odd place for a charming young lady like you to be working, don't you?
Abbie Irving: And are you the delegation sent to tell me that?
Wade Hatton: No, no, no... I just stop trouble around here. I don't start it!

Wade Hatton: Thirty years ago my father met my mother at the London Dairy Fair. He'd come down to sell some prize pigs -- big fat lovely pigs they were. My mother was down there after winning the grand prize for her roses. Roses of Sharon, enormous big things, as big as your face and nearly as beautiful. I don't suppose there were ever roses like that in the whole length and breath of Ireland. Well, what must happen? The very last day of the fair, father's pigs get out and eat up every single one of mother's prize roses -- root, stem, flower and all. Now, did any two people ever get off to a worse start than that? And yet look at them now! Six big lusty sons with score or so of prize pigs and the most beautiful rose garden in the whole of Ireland.

Wade Hatton: You are the most stubborn little female I've ever met in my life entirely. Can't you understand I'm doing this because I love you?
Abbie Irving: Well why didn't you...
Mrs. Irving: All right you two -- stop arguing!
Wade Hatton: Don't worry, Mrs. Irving, we've stopped! (Wade and Abbie kiss)