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: You shouldn't kiss a girl when you're wearing that gun... leaves a bruise.
: I hadn't supposed there were enough murders these days to make detecting very attractive to a young man. Philip Marlowe
: I stir up trouble on the side.
: [to private detective Philip Marlowe
] Sometimes I hate men. ALL men. Old men, young men... beautiful young men who use rosewater and... almost heels who are private detectives. Helen Grayle
: [hidden in the shadows, laughs - then she comes out
] Oh, I'm sorry, darling, I couldn't help laughing; but you should know by now that men play rough. They soften you up, throw you off guard, and then belt you one. Helen Grayle
: [to Marlowe
] That was a dirty trick, but maybe it'll teach you not to overplay a good hand. Now she doesn't like you. She hates men. Ann Grayle
: That was only the first half of the speech. The rest of it goes like this: I hate their women, too - especially the "big league blondes". Beautiful, expensive babes who know what they've got... all bubble bath, and dewy morning, and moonlight. And inside: blue steel, cold - cold like that... only not that clean. Helen Grayle
: Your slip shows, dear.
[Ann runs out of the beach house
: [after Mr. Grayle takes Marlowe's gun
] You know, this'll be the first time I've ever killed anyone I knew so little and liked so well. What's your first name? Philip Marlowe
: Philip, for short. Helen Grayle
: Philip. Philip Marlowe... named for a duke. You're just a nice mug. I've got a name for a duchess: Mrs. Leuwen Lockridge Grayle. Just a couple of mugs - we could have got along.
: It's a long story and not pretty. Philip Marlowe
: I got lots of time and I'm not squeamish.
: I find men *very* attractive. Philip Marlowe
: I imagine they meet you halfway.
: Let's dispense with the polite drinking, shall we?
: To hell with polite drinking.