“I’m not going to sleep with you,” said Tiffany Case in a matter-of-fact voice, “so don’t waste your money getting me tight. But I’ll have another and probably another one after that. I just don’t want to drink your Vodka Martinis under false pretences.”
Bond laughed. He gave the order and turned back to her. “We haven’t ordered dinner yet,” he said. “I was going to suggest shellfish and hock. That might have changed your mind. The combination’s supposed to have quite an effect.”
“Listen, Bond,” said Tiffany Case, “it’d take more than Crabmeat Ravigotte to get me into bed with a man. In any event, since it’s your check, I’m going to have caviar, and what you English call ‘cutlets,’ and some pink champagne. I don’t often date a good-looking Englishman and the dinner’s going to live up to
