The important drinking hasn't started yet.

I hate low, under-handed people like policemen, pussy-footing after you. Of course, I'm a marked woman, you know? I'm liable to blow up the Panama Canal any minute now.

I want to make it 80 and wipe that grin off your face. I don't like gentlemen who grin at me.

[to Devlin] You double-crossing buzzard - you're a cop!...a federal cop crashing my party...you're trailing me to get something on me.

[to Devlin] Go away and leave me alone. I have my own life to lead. Good times. That's what I want, and laughs with people I like. And no underhanded cops who want to put me up in a shooting gallery, but people of my own kind, who treat me right and like me and understand me.

I don't know why I should feel so bad. When he told me a few years ago what he was, everything went to pot. I didn't care what happened to me. Now I remember how nice he once was. How nice we both were, very nice. It's a very curious feeling as if something had happened to me and not to him. You see, I don't have to hate him anymore or myself.

I'm allergic to American agents. Their fine points don't particularly appeal to me.

[to Sebastian] He has pestered me with his tenderness ever since I arrived...Mr. Devlin doesn't interest me.

I don't know if she'll do it...Well, I don't think she's that type of woman.

She wasn't drunk, she was sick. Maybe that's why she hasn't shown up. She looked like the ragged end of nowhere.