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: Tracy, look at the way she does her hair. Tracy
: Oh, yes, it's lovely. Is it lacquered?
: George told us what happened. Your father will make an announcement. Tracy
: Oh thank you. No, no, I got myself into this, I'll get myself out. Ooh. Dexter
: Go. Go. Tracy
: [Opens the door to address the guests
] Good morning
[to the organist
: Will you stop that racket? Good morning. I'm afraid there's been a slight hitch. My fiancé that was... that is... he's decided we should call it a day and I quite agree with him and... oh Dexter help me please? Dexter
: Say "two years ago I did you out of a wedding in this house by eloping to Maryland" Tracy
: Two years ago I did you out of a wedding in this house by eloping to Maryland. Dexter
: "But I hope to make it up to you now by going through with it as originally planned." Tracy
: But I hope to make it up to you now by...
[looks at Dexter, he nods and smiles
: by going through with it as originally and most beautifully planned. Dexter
: "So if you'll just keep your seats a moment" Tracy
: So if you'll just keep your lovely seats a moment Dexter
: "That's all" Tracy
: That's all
[shuts the door
: . Oh Dexter, are you sure? Dexter
: No, but I'll risk it if you will. Tracy
: You're not just doing it to save my face? Dexter
: It's such a sweet old face.
: This is Miss Elizabeth Imbrie and Mr Mike Macauley Connor. They're from Spy magazine. Dexter
: Spy? Say your tastes have changed a little haven't they, Sam?
: Tracy, it's your song! Dexter must be home. Tracy
: Mother, has Dexter come back? Mrs. Lord
: Well, we knew he was giving his house over to the jazz festival, maybe he has come back. Tracy
: He's back. No-one else would play that song. That cheap, vulgar, dreadful song. Caroline Lord
: That beautiful, wonderful song he wrote especially for her? That's gratitude.
: What's this?
[holds up a weird silver object
] Mrs. Lord
: I don't know dear. Caroline Lord
: It stinks. Mrs. Lord
: Caroline, don't say stinks. If absolutely necessary, smells, but only if absolutely necessary.
: Mother, don't you think it's stinking of Tracy not to invite father to the wedding? Mrs. Lord
: Yes, just between us, I think it's good and stinking.
: [on telephone
] This is the voice of doom. Mrs. Lord
: What? Mike
: This is to tell you your days are numbered.
] Mrs. Lord
: Oh dear. One of the servants has been at the sherry again.
: The course of true love... Macaulay Connor
: ...gathers no moss.
: This is the Bridal Suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer? Margaret Lord
: What? Who is this? Macaulay Connor
: This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son. Margaret Lord
: Hello? Hello? Tracy Lord
: What's the matter? Margaret Lord
: One of the servants has been at the sherry again.
: We both might face the facts that neither of us has proved to be a very great success as a wife. Tracy Lord
: We just picked the wrong first husband.
: Oh, dear. Is there no such thing as privacy any more? Tracy Lord
: Only in bed, mother, and not always there.
: Are you one of the musicians? Macaulay Connor
: No! Margaret Lord
: Oh of course, you're Junius's friend. Only you're not. Do you have any violin strings? Macaulay Connor
: [digs in his pocket
] I have an aspirin. Will that work? Margaret Lord
: I don't think so! It's for a violin. Oh well, no matter!
: I think that dress hikes up a little behind... Dinah Lord
: No, it's me that does.