- Judy Nash: I suppose a gentleman's gentleman should know the various indiscretions of the gentleman to whom he is a gentleman.
- Michael Royce: [running a fever in bed] I think I'm going to expire.
- Phyllis Rodgers: Oh, Michael!
- Michael Royce: I have a foreboding I'll soon be exploding if my temperature gets any higher.
- Doctor: Quite so. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Now, young man, this may turn to neuritis, arthritis, or even a case of sclerosis. You must go on a diet, have absolute quiet or else you will develop thrombosis.
- Phyllis Rodgers: Michael, darling, maybe you better take an aspirin.
- Judy Nash: I can understand how you feel about marriage. But, why go around leading with your chin. A dictaphone.
- Michael Royce: When one stands on the threshold of a glorious, emotional adventure, young lady, one doesn't go scurrying around the room looking for a dictaphone.
- Primrose: The young lady's familiarity with the byways of legal entanglements, might prove a tremendous value to us.
- Michael Royce: What do you mean?
- Primrose: We might employ her to keep us out of trouble.
- Judy Nash: Oh, no. Not me! I'm no magician. Besides, The Tribune pays me 50 bucks a week to write stories about people like you.
- Michael Royce: Say, a 150 a week?
- Judy Nash: Dollars? Gosh!
- Michael Royce: I know she saves me money; but, what good is it? I can't work. I can't write! I can't think. I can't do anything!
- Primrose: Catastrophic, sir. Catastrophic.
- Michael Royce: How can I do a brilliant play when I'm surround by such stillness! Nobody inspires me! Nobody!
- Primrose: Perhaps a spot of Beethoven might do the trick, sir? Might'in it?
- Michael Royce: No music, Primrose, thank you. Oh, you're doing your best. You've been like a comfortable old shoe. But, what I need is a dashing silver slipper with a high French heel! - Not a bad line, that is!
- Primrose: I beg pardon, sir. But, might not one consider Miss Nash a dashing silver slipper?
- Michael Royce: Nash? That emotional iceberg? No. There's no dash about Nash.
- Primrose: Sir, has it occurred to you that beneath that business like exterior, there vibrates a romantic soul?
- Michael Royce: Nonsense, Primrose. What would she look like in an evening gown? - - What *would* she look like in an evening gown?
- Phyllis Rodgers' Brother: How's about steppin' this one, gorgeous?
- [takes Judy out on the dancefloor]
- Michael Royce: Will you sit down Phyllis?
- Phyllis Rodgers: Oh, no. Let's go out to the terrace - away from all these stuffy people. Everything is too, too stuffy.
- Phyllis Rodgers: Oh, silly boy, can't you see clearly enough that I ran off to Europe in hopes that you'd follow me?
- Michael Royce: On what? A surf board?
- Michael Royce: What is it beneath that chilly exterior of yours that I cannot fathom? I know that if these lips were ever to touch yours, my blood would freeze. Yet, I am powerless to help myself. Oh, I love you. I adore you.