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.|