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Phyllis: Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. Walter Neff: Who? Phyllis: My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? Walter Neff: Yeah, I was, but I'm sort of getting over the idea, if you know what I mean. Phyllis: There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. Walter Neff: How fast was I going, officer? Phyllis: I'd say around ninety. Walter Neff: Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. Phyllis: Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. Walter Neff: Suppose it doesn't take. Phyllis: Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. Walter Neff: Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. Phyllis: Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. Walter Neff: That tears it.

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