The Maltese Falcon

by Dashiell Hammett

“You will please stand,” the man with the pistol instructed him at whose thick chest the pistol was aimed.

Snicker. Read for speed, not beauty. Cinematic lit? First gen of page-to-screen possibilities?

“I’ve thrown myself on your mercy, told you that without your help I’m utterly lost. What else is there?” She suddenly moved close to him on the settee and cried angrily: “Can I buy you with my body?” Their faces were a few inches apart. Spade took her face between his hands and he kissed her mouth roughly and contemptuously. Then he sat back and said: “I’ll think it over.”

Daaaaaaaamn!

The boy spoke two words, the first a short guttural verb, the second “you.” “People lose teeth talking like that.” Spade’s voice was still amiable though his face had become wooden. “If you want to hang around you’ll be polite.”

I bet the implied "fuck" really knocked their socks off back in the 30s.

“You have always, I must say, a smooth explanation ready.” Spade scowled. “What do you want me to do? Learn to stutter?

Sam Spade, you are simply too much!

Sweetheart, you’ve got an uncle who teaches history or something over at the University?” “A cousin. Why?” “If we brightened his life with an alleged historical secret four centuries old could we trust him to keep it dark awhile?” “Oh, yes, he’s good people.”

XD