[first lines]

Man Selling French Postcards:
[scene: a Paris street cafe]
Des cartes postales, m'sieur? Des cartes postales, sir?
[Man seated with lady shoos the vendor away]

Man Selling French Postcards:
[approaching Gordon and Hector's table]
Postal cards, m'sier? *Dirty* postcards?
Hector Stribling:
[turning away, disgusted]
Uh!
Gordon Evers:
Charming.
[taking the cards]

Gordon Evers:
Would you like to look at them, Hector?
Hector Stribling:
Certainly not!
Gordon Evers:
How much are they?
Man Selling French Postcards:
Twenty francs.
Gordon Evers:
There you are.
Man Selling French Postcards:
Merci m'sieur. Merci.
[Gordon tears up the cards, bows to the vendor, and throws the pieces away]

Hector Stribling:
Why... why on earth did you do that?
Gordon Evers:
Who knows, it may save the soul of some American tourist.
Riportata da il 05/03/2025 alle ore 07:18

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