High Society


Tracy: Do you like my dress? It’s awfully heavy.

Mike: She’s a lovely girl.
Tracy: Yes, isn’t she? Ah, but we’re afraid she has a homicidal streak.

Mother Lord: Tracy, look at the way she does her hair.
Tracy: Oh, yes, it’s lovely. Is it lacquered?

Uncle Willie: My dear boy, this is the sort of day history tells us is better spent in bed.