Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: My maid said you phoned, but you said you weren't gonna be here till three.
Amanda Bedford Carrington: [disdainfully] Well, I hope I'm not interrupting your snack or your big business dealings.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: [wants to get this over with] What is it, Amanda?
Amanda Bedford Carrington: [irksome] I don't appreciate your telling Clay Fallmont about what happened to me.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: The pills.
[graciously]
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: I'm sorry, Amanda. I shouldn't have opened my mouth.
Amanda Bedford Carrington: [aggressive] You damned well know it.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: [impatient now] I said, I'm sorry.
Amanda Bedford Carrington: Well, from what I've heard, Sammy Jo, there's a big risk in believing anything you say. Just let me make it clear. What I do with my life is my personal business.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: Oh, could that personal business be a good-looking guy named Clay Fallmont?
[knows she's right]
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: Tell me something, Amanda. Would you have come here at all if I had told some Joe Doe about what happened and not Clay? That's what's bothering you, isn't it? I just told the wrong guy.
Amanda Bedford Carrington: Clay Fallmont has absolutely nothing to do with this.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: Look, I might have been born dirt-poor, but it seems like a senator's son prefers me over born-rich types like you, so I'm riding high, Amanda.
Amanda Bedford Carrington: [sneering] Or heading for a fall, Sammy Jo.
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: Look, I've got work to do, so there's the door.
[points, scooting Amanda out, and as the tennis-outfitted heiress storms out petulantly, reaches for the phone]
Sammy Jo Dean Carrington: I'd like to speak to Clay Fallmont, please.