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: Any idea who the girl in the black hat is? Fiona
: The name's Carrie. Charles
: Pretty. Fiona
: American. Charles
: Interesting. Fiona
: Slut. Charles
: Really? Fiona
: Used to work at Vogue. Lives in America now. Only gets out with very glamorous people. Quite out of your league. Charles
: Well, that's a relief. Thanks.
: Perhaps we should've got married. Henrietta
: No! I'd have had to marry your friends, and I'm not sure I could take Fiona. Charles
: Fiona loves you. Henrietta
: Fiona calls me Duckface. Charles
: Well, I never heard that.
[Henrieta leavs and Fiona aproaches
: How's Duckface? Charles
: Good form actually, not too mad.
[at second wedding
] Mrs. Beaumont
: Are you married? Fiona
: No. Mrs. Beaumont
: Are you a lesbian? Fiona
: Good lord! What makes you ask that? Mrs. Beaumont
: Well, it is one of the possibilites for unmarried girls nowadays, and it's rather more interesting than saying, "Oh dear, never met the right chap," eh? Fiona
: Quite right. Why be dull? Mrs. Beaumont
: Thank you.
: The truth is... well, the truth is, I have met the right person, and he's not in love with me, and until I stop loving him, no one else really has a chance. Mrs. Beaumont
: Oh, what a shame. Fiona
: Yes, isn't it?
: I was a lesbian once at school, but only for about fifteen minutes.
: [about congratulating parents of bride and groom
] God, I never know what to say in these ghastly line-ups. Gareth
: It's a cinch! Just give a big warm hug and say the bride looks... pregnant. Matthew
: Or you can stick with convention and say "You must be very proud." Fiona
: Heaven preserve us...
[in the line
: You must be very proud!
: Where's Gareth? Matthew
: Torturing Americans. Fiona
: How thoughtful of him.
: [discussing the first time one performs a wedding
] It's rather like the first time one has sex, I suppose. Father Gerald
: I suppose so. Fiona
: Only not as messy, and far less cause for condoms.
: [At wedding one, the bride walks down the aisle
] Isn't she beautiful? Fiona
: Scarlett, you're blind, she looks like a big meringue.
: Do you think I'd hate him as much if he wasn't my brother?
: Well, let's face the facts. If you weren't certain you wanted to marry her today, of all days - i.e., your wedding day - then it must have been the right decision, mustn't it?
[Fiona looks at him as though she's about to say, "Bugger off, Tom," for the umpteenth time, then reaches out and touches his shoulder affectionately
: Quite right, Tom.
: There's a sort of greatness to your lateness. Charles
: Thanks, it's not achieved without real suffering.