Adele: Well, I never thought I'd have to do the proposing, but, if I must …
Bart: Uh-h, now don't say something you're liable to be sorry for in a month or two.
Adele: No longer than that?
Bart: I'm not the marrying kind, Adele, I thought you understood that.
Adele: I'm beginning to. It's that starched little Quaker, isn't it?
Bart: Phoebe! (scoffs) Now you're stretching my imagination.
Adele: Am I? I heard how you fawned over her last week, but I ignored it because I thought you'd get over it. You received thousands of dollars commission on the sale of the Eureka stock, don't you think you should remember who buttered your bread?
Bart: You'll pardon me, but if I leave now, I may be able to remember you without the claws.