“Unnerved, Summerset moved quickly to the communication center. "Roarke, the lieutenant has just come in from outside. She wore no outer gear. She looks very bad.""Where is she?""She's heading up. Roarke, I insulted her and...she apologized to me. Something must be done.”

“Summerset, don't you ever sleep?""It's Lieutenant Dallas. She's--"Roarke dropped his briefcase, grabbed Summerset by the lapels. "Has she been hurt? Where is she?""A nightmare. She was screaming." Summerset lost his usual composure and dragged a hand over his hair. "She won't cooperate. I was about to call your doctor. I left her in her private suite."As Roarke pushed him aside, Summerset grabbed his arm. "Roarke, you should have told me what had been done to her."Roarke merely shook his head and kept going. "I'll take care of her.”

“That Chippendale is a coffee table, Lieutenant, not a footstool.""How do you walk with that stick up your ass?" She left her feet where they were, propped comfortably on the table. "Does it hurt, or does it give you a nice little rush?""Your dinner guests," he said, curling his lip, "have arrived.""Thank you, Summerset." Roarke got to his feet. "We'll have the hors d'oeuvres in here." He held out a hand to Eve.She waited, deliberately, until Summerset had stepped out again before swinging her feet to the floor."In the interest of good fellowship," Roarke began as they started toward the foyer, "could you not mention the stick in Summerset's ass for the rest of the evening?""Okay. If he rags on me I'll just pull it out and beat him over the head with it.""That should be entertaining.”

“Eve: "She had big plans for me. Kind of a pet, I imagine. Like William. Her little trained dog. And with you dead, she figured I'd inherit all your goodies. You're not going to do that to me are you?"Roarke: "What, die?"Eve: "Leave me all this stuff."Roarke: "Only you would be annoyed by that.”

“At once, she dropped her gaze 2 the floor so she wouldn’t have 2 meet the stares because she knew exactly how she looked, which was bad, very bad, extra bad from the top of her dyed head to the tip of her tennis-shoed toes. She had an enormous urge to look up and say to the class, “I’m prettier than this. Really.”

“Eve: "Where's Mister Scary?"Roarke: "Summerset has the night off."Eve: "You mean the house is Summerset-free? Damn shame we have to waste it with work.”