Through the open window, Marion hears raised voices coming from the house. She goes over to listen. We can barely make out the shouted words, at first.
No! I tell you no! I won’t have you bringing strange young girls in here for supper–by candlelight, I suppose, in the cheap erotic fashion of young men with cheap erotic minds!
And then what, after supper? Music? Whispers?
Mother, she’s just a stranger! She’s hungry and it’s raining out.
(mocking) ‘Mother, she’s just a stranger.’ As if men don’t desire strangers. Ah! I refuse to speak of disgusting things, because they disgust me! Do you understand, boy? Go on! Go tell her she’ll not be appeasing her ugly appetite with my food, or my son! Or do I have to tell her ’cause you don’t have the guts, boy? Huh, boy? You have the guts, boy?
Shut up! Shut up!
Marion sees Norman come out the front door. She takes a pair of shoes from the bag and puts them on, then goes out the door and waits on the porch. Norman comes around the corner, carrying a tray.
From Joseph Stefano’s screenplay for Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960)