Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I love you.
Wise up, would you please, Barrett? I was not great. I was not even All-Ivy.
I would only ask that you... wait a bit.
You're known for quantity.
Who?
and I just don't think I could.
Yeah. "What a falling off was there."
- We live on the 10th floor! - You can carry me in the elevator.
Just tell me who performs the wedding.
but must you play it while we study?
Yeah, but who?
Penalty, Barrett of Harvard, five minutes for fighting.
Don't go off half-cocked, damn it!
- Friends... - How would I know?
- Do you know whose fault it is? - I wouldn't use the word fault, Oliver.
Two 24-year-olds can't seem to make a baby.
Oliver, the Shady Lane School is only paying me three thou a year.
- Will it be painful? - Hopefully not.
- Barrett like the hall? - Yes.
No. I mean for Phil. It's going to be hardest on him.
- Because I'm playing. - For which side?
- OK, then, for the Yalie doctor. - OK.
Your parents are in the drawing room.
OK, Barrett. Who is she? What's her name?
Yes. I mean... one of the college chaplains just sort of...
Good evening. This is Jennifer Barrett.
I'd like you to meet Jennifer Calaveri.
- Did you hear from law school? - Yes. I called you, remember?
and Radcliffe's got a few lousy thousand.
- You chicken-shit! - You Montreal faggots!
Look, Cavalleri, I know your game, and I'm tired of playing it.
What does that have to do with going our separate ways?
- And you are rebelling, Oliver. - I fail...
She may have told you that.
Barrett's back in the game. Harvard's at full strength.
Well, mostly. Actually, my mother came from Fall River.
- Welcome to the world, preppie. - Listen, Cavalleri...
No, but I used to know all those things.
Barrett. 10-H. We've got bags in the car.
I find it rather cute.
Yes, fine. How's Raymond?
- Come on, Dan. Come on. - Hey, Jennifer, Come here!
Who said anything about marriage?
That's really the best thing.
- Jenny... - Yeah?
And her... sainted mother always dreamed of a...
But verbal volleyball is not my idea of a relationship.
Oh, Mr. Barrett. Good evening, sir.
- Quiet! - Come on, come on.
What are you talking about? Lapierre started the fight!
No. I'll be involved.
- Well, good-bye. - Good-bye, sir.
And I want time, which you can't give me.
I think you can handle it.
And I'm good, right?
OK, what's the number?
- Why do you wear it? - It was my mother's.
Thank you. You've been very generous with your time.
What can you say about a 1945 girl who died?
The case is closed!
Did you at least make the other guy look worse?
I don't know. I just couldn't see living in some hotel.
Now, upstairs, you preppie.