- Brian: Now, who do you love? Carey Merton or me?
- Anne: I've never met Carey Merton...
- Brian: Then it must be me.
- Anne: I bet he's fascinating.
- Brian: I bet he's potty!
- Anne: I bet he knows how to make love.
- Brian: Meaning, I don't?
- Anne: Oh, you're not bad, for an amateur.
- Brian: I suppose he's a professional?
- Anne: Of the highest rank.
- Brian: Hmm. Rank is right!
- Anne: You should read some of his books and learn some new ideas.
- Brian: 'haven't learnt all the old ones yet.
- Anne: Oh, strange. Didn't your granny teach you?
- Brian: I scarcely remember.
- Anne: Dear me, I thought you were quite old friends. I always think of you as grandma's boy.
- Brian: Just the same, you love me.
- Anne: Do I?
- Brian: You wouldn't promise to marry me, if you didn't.
- Anne: Well, marriage is a little old-fashioned, isn't it?
- Brian: Is that what Carey Merton thinks?
- Anne: He understands.
- Brian: What?
- Anne: Me. Every woman.
- Brian: Now you're talking absolute rot.
- Anne: You approve of convention, of course? A man can be free but a woman must be chained. Well, Carey Merton thinks differently. He isn't stuffy.
- Brian: He ought to be horse-whipped! And you ought to be spanked.
- Anne: Brian!
- Brian: I'm sorry, Ann.
- [grabbing her book]
- Brian: But somehow this old fossil infuriated me.
- Anne: If he were old, he couldn't write so beautifully.
- Brian: If he were young, he wouldn't write so disgustingly.
- Anne: We'll settle this, Brian.
- Brian: How?
- Anne: We'll call on him and find out.