I know. I look vaguely familiar.
Yes.
You feel you've seen me|somewhere before.
I have that effect on people.|It's something about my face.
It's a nice face.
- You think so?|- I wouldn't say it if I didn't.
Oh, you're that type.
What type?
Honest.
Not really.
Good. Because honest women|frighten me.
Why?
Somehow they seem to put me|at a disadvantage.
- Because you're not honest with them?|- Exactly.
Like that business about|the seven parking tickets?
What I mean is,|the moment I meet an attractive woman...
...I have to start pretending I've no desire|to make love to her.
What makes you think|you have to conceal it?
She might find the idea objectionable.
Then again, she might not.
Think how lucky I am|to have been seated here.
Luck had nothing to do with it.
Fate?
I tipped the steward $5 to seat you here|if you should come in.
Is that a proposition?
I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
You've already eaten.
But you haven't.
Don't you think it's time|we were introduced?
I'm Eve Kendall. I'm 26 and unmarried.
Now you know everything.
What do you do besides lure men|to their doom on the 20th Century Limited?
I'm an industrial designer.
Jack Phillips.
Western sales manager|for Kingby Electronics.
No, you're not. You're Roger Thornhill...
...of Madison Avenue...
...and you're wanted for murder|on every front page in America.
Don't be so modest.
Don't worry.
- I won't say a word.|- How come?
I told you.
It's a nice face.
Is that the only reason?
It's going to be a long night.
True.
I don't particularly like the book|I've started.
You know what I mean?
Let me think.
I know exactly what you mean.
That's my trademark. R.O.T.
Roger O. Thornhill.|What does the "O" stand for?
Nothing.
