Tracy!
- Tracy! - How do you spell "omelet"?
- Oh, you. - Ninety-four for the ceremony...
...and 506 for the reception. I don't know where we'll put them all if it should rain.
Oh, it won't rain. Tracy won't stand for it.
- Mother, how do you spell "omelet"? - O-M-M-E-L-E-T.
- I thought there was another L. - Funny wedding present, an omelet.
It was a dish, dear, a silver dish.
Bring some of that junk off the table. Mother, be an angel...
- ...and get these things out of the way. - Yes, darling.
This stinks.
Don't say "stinks," darling. If absolutely necessary, "smells."
- But only if necessary. - These cards have been changed again.
There must be a ghost in the house. Maybe the ghost of groom number one.
Don't talk about Dexter as though he were dead.
- Might as well be for all Tracy cares. - Right.
- Oh, I wouldn't say that. - If I never see Dexter Haven again, I'll be--
- Isn't that awful? - Friends of your father's.
Wouldn't you know it? What are they, tap dancers or musical-comedy producers?
- Hardly fair to your father's interest in art. - Art, my eye.
The art of putting up $ 100,000 to display the shapely legs--
- That will do, Tracy. - Oh, I give up.
If you'd just face the facts squarely, as I did....
We both might face the fact that neither of us has proved to be a success as a wife.
We just picked the wrong first husbands, that's all.
Don't argue about it. You wanted me to take a stand. I've taken it.
It's the only stand a woman could take and keep her self-respect.
Yes, dear, I know.
Now I have my self-respect and no husband.
You almost talk as though you wanted him back.
He wouldn't come back, probably.
Hey, it's better this way. Really. You'll see.
Let's forget about the past. We both deserve happiness now, especially you.
- Darling. - Isn't George an angel?
- George is an angel. - Is he handsome or not?
- George is handsome. - I like Dexter.
Really? Why don't you postpone the wedding?
- How? - Get smallpox.
- Don't put the idea in her head. - George isn't usually late.
- He's waiting at the stables. - Waiting--
- If I don't choke her before Saturday.... - It'd postpone it.
It would not. Be in the car when I get down.
She's so mean about Dexter.
- He was rather mean to her. - Did he really sock her?
- Please, Dinah. - Did he, really?
- Darling, you go wait in the car. - Well, the papers were full of innundo.
- Of what? - Of innundo.
Cruelty and drunkenness, it said.
Mother, why won't Tracy ask her own father to the wedding?
Your sister has definite opinions about things.
She's sort of....
Well, you know...
- ...hard, isn't she? - Certainly not.
Tracy sets exceptionally high standards for herself, that's all...
...and other people aren't always quite apt to live up to them.
But don't you think it's stinking not at least to want Father?
Yes, darling. Between ourselves, I think it's good and stinking.
Oh, I wish something would happen.
Nothing ever possibly in the least ever happens here.
Mother.
How do you get smallpox?
Oh, Dinah, please go. Go.
This is Uncle Willie's favorite. Complete Surrender.
Where'd you get this idiotic thing, anyway?
Hey!
Never play with fire, particularly on the eve of your wedding.
You're really a wicked old man, Uncle Willie.
- Who takes this, anyway, your cook? - I love it.
- It's got pictures of everything. - It certainly has.
Who is that terribly attractive man?
Can Tracy pick them, or can she?
- If you're asking me-- - I'm not.
- Hello, darling. - Hello.
- Well, how do you like me? - I adore you, but you look awful.
- Awful? - Like something right out of a shop window.
Well, Tracy, I--
What--? Hey, what--?
- Say, cut it out! They're new. - That's just it.
But they're not going to be. There, that's better.
I don't get it.
When I was a coal miner, the idea was to buy clean clothes.
Now that I'm general manager-- Say, Dinah...
...anything in there about the wedding?
- What do you mean? - I thought maybe...
...you being one of the oldest families in Philadelphia...
...and me getting fairly important myself-- It's luck, of course, but I--
- What's the matter? - "Average Day in the Life...
...of a Congressman. The wife. The kitchen, where is prepared...
...one banana, sliced, two fried eggs. Congressman kisses wife good morning."
- People like publicity. - Of all the filthy ideas.
Coming into a private house with a camera.
George Kittredge, you get on that horse.
- What do you think? - What if I took it into my head...
- ...to go into politics? - You'd be elected president.
- I don't know about that. I mean publicity. - Not in my home.
You mean our home, don't you?
Sorry, darling. I mean very much our home.
Oh, never mind, Eddie. I'll get up myself.
Now, steady, Bessie.
Whoa, Bessie. Whoa.
That's it-- Whoa, Bessie. Whoa!
Here, here, here.
Whoa.
Now, steady, Bessie.
Grab the reins, George, with the left hand.
- Put salt on his tail. - Shut up.
Steady, Bessie.
There. Whoa, whoa, Bessie. Whoa. Whoa.
What's the matter? You act worried.
Maybe it's because his name is Jack.
Heigh-ho, Silver.
- Hello, Joe. - Hi, Mike.
I'm not gonna do it, Liz. I'm gonna tell Sidney Kidd I'm a writer.
I'm not a society snoop. Gonna tell him just that.
Just that.
Let Kidd fire me!
I'll write short stories again. That's what I should be doing.
- I'm gonna tell him just that. - Just that.
Come in.
- I don't think you're being fair to me. - No?
No. You're treating me like you treat all your other writers.
You really hate me, don't you, Connor?
No. I don't like you very much, though.
You hate me, I trust, Miss Imbrie?
No. I can't afford to hate anybody. I'm only a photographer.
Ask him to wait.
Your assignment will be Spy's most sensational achievement:
Tracy Lord.
Big-game hunting in Africa, fox hunting in Pennsylvania.
Married on impulse and divorced in a rage, and always unapproachable by the press.
The unapproachable Miss Lord....
"The Philadelphia Story."
"Close to the Portals of Snobbish Fox Hunting." No.
"No Hunter of Foxes is Spy Magazine."
Anyway, present it for the first time, quote:
"A Wedding Day Inside Mainline Society."
"Or What the Kitchen Maid Saw Through the Keyhole." Unquote.
- Writing's your job. I'm only the publisher. - All right, publisher, take this:
Quote, "No Hunter of Buckshot in the Rear is Cagey, Crafty Connor." Unquote.
Close paragraph.
Close job, close bank account.
Mr. Kidd, how can we get inside the Lord estate, let alone the house?
Now, we're not gonna do it, Liz. Doggone it, it's degrading. It's undignified.
So is an empty stomach. How do we get in?
Ask the gentleman to come in.
- I understand we understand each other. - Quite.
This gentleman has been employed in our Buenos Aires office.
He came yesterday on the clipper. I believe he can help with our problem.
- How? - Tracy Lord's brother, Junius...
...is in the American Embassy there.
And he's an old friend of this gentleman's.
He'll introduce you to the Lords as intimate friends of Junius.
Dear old Junius.
This Tracy Lord-- She know you?
You might say Miss Lord and I grew up together.
You might also say you were her first husband.
- Yes, you might. - Holy mackerel. What goes on here?
I remember your honeymoon very well. You and she on a little sailboat.
- The True Love, wasn't it? - That's right. How did you know?
I was the only photographer whose camera you didn't smash.
You were terribly nice about it. You threw it in the ocean.
Oh, one of those, huh?
Yes, I had a strange idea our honeymoon was our business.
He paid for all the cameras.
- I got a nice little letter of apology too. - Always the gentleman, huh?
Except on occasion.
Now, what are the plans?
The wedding's Saturday. Today is Thursday.
They should spend tomorrow as guests of the Lords.
Listen, there's something screwy here. If you resigned, why are you doing this...
...unless you--
Oh, you wanna get even with your ex-bride, huh?
I'll have a car pick them up at noon tomorrow in North Philadelphia.
Here, Mike, there's a little spit in your eye. It shows.
Maybe they'd rather we go to the servants' entrance.
Maybe this is the servants' entrance.
Good morning, Edward.
Why, Mr. Haven, sir.
Is Mrs. Haven-- I mean, Miss Tracy or her mother in?
They may be down at the swimming pool. Shall I announce you?
No. No, I'll go around myself and surprise them.
- It will indeed be a surprise. - These are friends of Mr. Junius.
- Have them wait in the south parlor. - Certainly, Mr. Haven.
Excuse me, sir.
The south parlor?
Miss Imbrie, the south parlor.
The queen will have bread and honey at the usual time.
Seems a little cold for the south parlor.
I rather expected to find pickaninnies and banjos.
What's this room? I forgot my compass.
Well, this would be south-southwest parlor by living room.
Knickknacks, gimcracks, signed photographs.
You have to be rich as the Lords to live in a dump like this.
- I wouldn't live in it if they paid me. - They won't.
Looks like they're running a hock shop on the side.
Well, I....
Just looking around.
I'll want your fingerprints for this.
What's this guy Haven up to?
- C.K. Dexter Haven. - What kind of a name is that, anyway?
C.K. Dexter Haven.
Well, Macaulay Connor is no homespun tag, my pet.
Well, you just try calling me Macaulay.
I knew a plain Joe Smith once.
He was only a clerk in a hardware store, but he was an absolute rat.
C.K. Dexter Haven. He plays polo. He designs sailboats.
- Class boats, very upper-class. - Oh, don't despair.
He's out, and Kittredge, man of the people, is in.
Quite a comer too, I understand. Political timber.
Poor guy. Wonder how he fell for it?
Liz, what did I tell you? Look, how do you like this:
"Living room, sitting room, terrace, pool, stables."
So they can talk to the horses without having them in the house.
Don't, Mike.
- Yes? - This is the bridal suite.
Send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and some beer.
What? Who is this?
This is the voice of doom calling.
Your days are numbered to the seventh son of the seventh son.
- Hello? Hello? - What's the matter?
One of the servants has been at the sherry again. I better go see.
Dexter! Dexter, you've come back!
Dinah, my dream girl.
What in the name of...?
Oh, no, it can't be. He went to South America for two years.
Edward said they were at the swimming pool.
They seem to be here.
Dexter, don't you know that tomorrow is the wedding?
Oh, that's right. So it is.
You can go right back where you came from.
Can't. Dinah says it's awful here without me.
Hello, you sweet thing.
Red, you look in the pink.
You don't think I'd miss your wedding, do you?
- Dexter, you wouldn't. - I'm not so sure he wouldn't.
No, Mother Lord, I assure you I wouldn't.
- When did you arrive? Tell us about Junius. - Stay to lunch.
Sure. Don't bother to open your house. Stay here. We're having no houseguests.
No? How about the groom?
- He's staying at the gatehouse. - Oh, that's good.
- Well, Junius is fine. - He should be here.
He's heartbroken. I suggested representing him as best man.
George might prefer to have his best man sober.
- I wish you'd represent George. - That's my loyal little girl.
- You'll like the people Junius did send. - You haven't switched to dope, have you?
The people Junius did send, did you say?
You don't know Macaulay Connor or Elizabeth Imbrie, do you?
- We can finish later. - I better introduce you.
Call me for--
Introduce me to whom?
To Imbrie and Connor. Tell them which rooms they're to have.
He wants to know whether to wear a black or white tie to the party.
Rooms?
I'd better start from the beginning. Sit down, dear.
They're friends of Junius.
And they expect to stay here? I think that's queer, indeed.
- It's queerer than that. It's paranoiac. - Well, it was Junius' idea.
- They've been kind to him and there's-- - You're lying, Dexter. I can always tell.
- Can you, Red? - But if they're Junius' friends--
You went to work after the divorce.
Except for a brief interlude in alcoholic sanitariums.
- You took a job in South America. For? - A magazine.
- And it wasn't by chance Spy magazine? - You are a mass of intuition.
And Junius' friends are photographers? I never thought you'd sink to do--
- What are you going to do? - I'm going to phone Junius.
Wait, Red, wait. You don't have to telephone Junius. I'll confess.
No, you're slipping, Red.
I used to be afraid of that look.
The withering glance of the goddess.
I didn't think that alcohol would-- Oh, shut up.
- Dinah, stay here. - Oh, please, Mother.
- Maybe he's going to sock her again. - Don't say sock.
Strike is quite an ugly enough word.
Who do they think they are, barging in on people?
- They'll think you don't want them. - I want them out and you too.
Yes, your majesty, but first, could I interest you in some blackmail?
- No. - Well, it's an article...
...complete with snapshots, details and insinuations.
It's ready for publication in Spy.
And it's about your father and that dancer.
- About Father and Tina Morrow? - Now, quiet. Dinah.
But they can't.
Well, they can't-- Even if it's true.
Where do you get these?
- Kidd, the editor. - He's got to be stopped.
Well, he is, temporarily.
If you'll allow those two to turn in a story on your wedding.
And when Kidd says a story, he means a story.
- I'm going to be sick. - Yes, an intimate day with a society bride.
I am sick.
- Tough, but that's the way it seems to be. - I'm to be examined, undressed, humiliated.
At 15 cents a copy.
And you, you....
- You're loving it. - Am I, Red?
- Well, we're hooked. - Are they reporters?
- Not friends of Junius? - They aren't anybody's friends.
- We're to pretend they are. - Why?
Don't ask me. There's a good reason, and it's my wedding, so please.
- I'll bet it's Father and that dancer. - Dinah, what do you know?
- Oh, I listen around. - Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?
Only in bed, Mother, and not always there.
Watching every little mannerism, jotting notes on how we talk and move.
- Will they do that? - And all in that snide, corkscrew English.
If we have to submit to save Father's face, which, incidentally, doesn't deserve it...
...I'm giving them a picture of life that'll stand their hair on end.
No! Tracy, we must just be ourselves, very much ourselves.
But you want us to create a good impression.
They don't know that we know, I hope.
No, that was understood. The girl's nice. He writes stories.
- Very down-to-earth. - They'll love us.
Oh, dear, you both better dress.
Please, both of you, promise to behave like ladies in front of these creatures.
We'll do our best, Mrs. Lord. I don't know how good that is.
Dexter, how perfectly dreadful.
And what will they say about Seth not being here for his daughter's wedding?
I know, darling.
Come on.
You better go and tell them how terribly happy we are to have them.
That's the old Quaker spirit, Mother Lord. Now, keep swinging.
Thought it was that butler.
- The family will welcome you in a moment. - What with?
With open arms.
They're happy to have friends of Junius.
- They don't know about us? - Why should they?
Look, Haven...
...our research department didn't give us much data.
This fiancé of this girl, George Kittredge, age 32.
- You know him well? - Well enough.
General manager, Quaker State Coal. Controlling interest owned by Seth Lord.
That's the girl's father, huh?
- What a coincidence. - How'd he meet her?
Heaven brought them together, I imagine.
Seth Lord. See bankers' annual directory of directors.
- So is there a library in town? - Yes.
I suppose you wouldn't know where.
Well, roughly. My grandfather built it.
Now, about this girl...
...Tracy Samantha Lord.
What about her?
Well, what's her leading characteristic?
She has a horror of men who wear their hats in the house.
Leading characteristics to be filled in later.
I can fill them in right now.
The young, rich, rapacious American female.
No other country where she exists.
And would I change places with Tracy Samantha Lord...
...for all her wealth and beauty?
Oh, boy, just ask me.
Well, tell four footmen to call me in time for lunch, will you?
How do you do?
- Friends of my brother Junius, are you not? - We--
I am Dinah Lord. My real name is Diana, but my sister changed it.
I'm Elizabeth Imbrie. This is Macaulay Connor.
I spoke French before I spoke English.
My childhood was in Paris, where my father worked in a bank.
- The House of Morgan. - Really?
Can you play the piano? I can, and sing at the same time. Listen.
What is this?
Idiot, probably.
Smallpox?
How do you do?
I'm Tracy Lord. It's so nice having you here.
- How did you leave Junius? - We left Junius fine.
- That little sister of yours-- - Isn't she a dear? So talented.
- Junius is such a lamb, isn't he? - Yes, isn't he?
It's a pity none of the males of the family are going to be here to welcome you.
- Where's your father? - Darling Papa.
- I do hope you'll stay for my wedding. - We'd like to.
- That was our idea. - I'm so glad that it occurred to you.
The house is rather a mess, of course.
We'll all have to huddle here and overflow onto the porch.
- I hope your rooms are comfortable. - Your father sick?
What a cunning little camera.
- I'm afraid I'm an awful nuisance with it. - You couldn't be. I hope you'll take loads.
Dear Papa and Mama aren't allowing reporters in.
That is, except for little Mr. Grace, who does the social news.
Can you imagine a grown-up man having to sink so low?
It does seem kind of bad.
You're a kind of writer, aren't you, Mr. Connor?
Sort of.
- A book? - Yes.
Under what name do you publish?
My own. Macaulay Connor.
What's the Macaulay for?
Well, my father taught English history.
I'm Mike to my friends.
Of whom you have many, I'm sure.
English history, it's always fascinated me. Cromwell, Robin Hood, Jack the Ripper.
Where did he teach?
- I mean your father. - A little high school in South Bend, Indiana.
South Bend. It sounds like dancing, doesn't it?
You must have had a most happy childhood there.
- It was terrific. - I'm so glad.
- I didn't mean it that way. - I'm so sorry. Why?
Well, lack of wherewithal, I guess.
That doesn't always cause unhappiness, does it?
Not if you're the right kind of man.
George Kittredge, my fiancé, never had anything, and he....
Are either of you married?
- No. - No.
- You were, but you're divorced? - The fact is--
Come, surely you're not ashamed of it.
- Of course I'm not ashamed of it. - What?
Well, it was years ago. I was only a kid in Duluth.
- Good heavens, Liz, you never told me-- - You never asked me.
Well, I know, but you....
Joe Smith. Hardware.
Well, you're the darnedest girl, Liz.
I think I'm sweet.
Duluth. That must be a lovely spot. It's west of here, isn't it?
Sort of, but occasionally we get the breezes.
And this is your first visit in Philadelphia.
It's a quaint place, don't you think? Filled with relics. How old are you?
Thirty.
One book isn't much for a man of 30.
I don't mean to criticize. You probably have interests outside work.
None.
I mean, unless....
How sweet.
Are you...
...going together?
- I beg your pardon? - That is an odd question, I must say.
Well, I don't see why. I think it's very interesting.
Miss Imbrie...
...don't you agree if a man says he loves a girl, he ought to marry?
- Can she be human? - Please, I asked Miss Imbrie a question.
- Well, that depends. I-- - I'll see what's keeping Mama.
Look, who's doing the interviewing here?
- You don't suppose she caught on? - No. She was born that way.
- Don't let her throw you. - Want to take over?
- I wanna go home. - Here you are.
How do you do? We're so happy to have you.
Forgive me for not coming in sooner. Things are in such a state.
My little girl.
She's going to leave me.
Aren't you pretty, my dear? But then Junius' friends always are.
Look at the way she wears her hair, Tracy.
Isn't it pretty?
Mighty fine.
Shall we have sherry on the porch?
Thank you.
- And this is my youngest daughter, Diana. - I think we've met.
I wish my husband were here. We expect him presently.
He's been detained on business for that lovely dancer Tina Morrow.
- Do you know her work? - Not professionally.
So talented and such a lovely person, but like many artists, no business head.
- None whatever. - I have some lovely presents.
Don't you think so, Mr. Connor?
Hello, everybody.
- I hope I'm not late. - You're never late, George.
We have a lovely surprise. Junius has sent us these two dear people...
...as a wedding present.
Mr. Kittredge, this is Miss...? I'm so sorry.
- Imbrie. - Any friend of Junius is a friend of mine.
- And Mr...? - I didn't get the name.
- Connor. - Macaulay Connor.
- He's a writer. - Don't apologize--
No apology necessary. I have respect for writers.
- Well, thank you. Any kind word is-- - How are you, dear?
Much better now that you're here.
- I guess this must be love. - Your guess is correct.
I'm just his faithful old dog, Tray.
- Give me your paw. - You've got it.
How sweet.
- Say, I'd like to see one of those. - You will.
Shall we have some sherry? I suppose Junius has told you all about our family.
Papa!
What?
Dear Papa!
You angel, to get here in time for lunch.
- Isn't he, Mama? - Indeed he is, but--
Father, this is Miss Imbrie and Mr. Connor.
How are you, Mr. Lord?
- Fine, thank you. How are you? - How do you do?
- Hiya, Pops.
Oh, dear Dinah.
Father, here's George.
Hello, Kittredge. Margaret, my sweet.
- Another place for luncheon, Edward. - Very good, madam.
Well...
...here I am.
In the bosom of my....
- Hello, friends and enemies. - Young man...
- ...remove yourself. - How are you, sir?
I don't know. Get along, get along.
- I changed my mind. I will stay for lunch. - Another place, Edward.
- Hello, Kittredge. - How are you, Haven?
Just Damon and Pythias.
No. Grant and Lee.
You don't look as well as when I last saw you, Kittredge.
Oh, you poor fellow, I know just how you feel.
- How's it coming? - Oh, beautifully, Dexter.
We're so indebted to you for these lovely people.
It's almost impossible to repay that debt.
But you'll manage, Red?
- They grew up together, you know. - How nice.
You don't look old enough to get married, not even the first time.
She needs trouble to mature her. Give her lots of it.
- I'm afraid she can't count on me for that. - No? That's too bad.
For your sake, you should have stuck to me longer.
I thought it was for life, but the nice judge gave me a full pardon.
That's the old redhead, no bitterness, no recrimination, just a swift left to the jaw.
They grew up together.
Luncheon is served, madam.
Thank you, Edward. Come, Seth. We have so much to talk about.
I don't suppose a man ever had a better or finer family.
I often wake up in the night and say:
"Seth, you lucky dog, what have you done to deserve it all?"
And what have you?
Oh, thank you.
How stupid of me.
Oh, dear, how awful!
Oh, dear, I had a feeling that would happen.
Your camera. Well, I'm so, so sorry.
I'm sure you are.
- What is it? - Your father.
Uncle Willie!
- Uncle Willie, how nice. - I beg your pardon?
Please go on into lunch, everyone. I want a word with Uncle Willie.
Another place, Edward.
I'm afraid I don't understand.
You never have, but you came anyway, didn't you?
Still justice with her shining sword, daughter?
- Who's on the spot? - We are, thanks to you...
...Uncle Willie.
How long will you be researching?
Not long, if I find the right books. Family history and stuff.
- There's a cousin Joanna that's crazy. - Who told you?
- Dinah. - Dinah should know.
Come across when you finish, Miss Hobson's.
Hobson, okay.
What is thee wish?
I'm looking for some local b--
What did you say?
What is thee wish?
Local biography or history.
If thee will consult with my colleague in there.
Dost thou have a washroom?
Thank thee.
Look, I know this is a public library, but I would--
- Hello. - Hello.
Couldn't you afford to buy my book?
- The bookstore didn't have one. - Are you doing the right thing?
Know what happens to girls like you who read my books?
They begin to think. That's bad.
These stories are beautiful.
Why, Connor, they're almost poetry.
Well, don't kid yourself. They are.
I can't make you out at all now.
Really?
I thought I was easy.
So did I.
But you're not.
You....
You talk so big and tough, and then you write like this.
Which is which?
Both, I guess.
No.
No, I....
I believe you put the toughness on to save your skin.
Well, you think so?
I know a little about that.
Do you?
Quite a lot.
Look, let's get out of here.
This book, it was just such a complete surprise to me.
Let's walk. It'd be much more fun.
Tell Mr. Kittredge we'll meet him at the pool.
Yes, Miss Tracy.
The story "With the Rich and Mighty," I think I liked it best.
I got it from a Spanish peasant's proverb:
"With the rich and mighty, always a little patience."
I like that.
What's the matter? A little too rough?
A little...
...but I'm used to it.
Tell me something, will you?
When you can do a thing like that book, how can you possibly do anything else?
You may not believe this, but there are people that must earn their living.
Of course, but people buy books, don't they?
Well, not as long as there's a library around.
That book of mine represents two solid years' work...
...and it netted Connor something under $600.
- But that shouldn't be. - Well, unhappily, it is.
Beautiful country around here.
- What is it all? - Part of our place.
What about your Miss Imbrie?
Miss Imbrie's in somewhat the same fix. She's a born painter...
...and might be an important one, but she must eat...
...and also prefers a roof over her head to being out in the rain and snow.
Food and a roof....
Hey, you've really got something here.
- Where? - Well, all this.
Come on, the dressing rooms are over here.
I think you'll find everything you need.
Use any old one, but you'll find most of the junk in there.
- Yell if you need anything. - Okay.
- Hey, Connor! - Yeah?
- I have an idea. - What?
I have the most wonderful little house in Unionville.
It's up on a hill with a view that would knock you silly.
I'm never there except in the hunting season and not much then.
And I'd be so happy to know that it was of some real use to someone.
Can you hear me?
Yeah.
There's a brook and a small lake...
...no size, really...
...and a patch of woods, and in any kind of weather...
...it's the most wonderful....
Well, anyhow, I'm so delighted that I can offer it to you.
Well, it's terribly nice of you, but....
Heck, that's Dexter.
Look, if he comes here...
...stand by, will you?
- I don't want to be alone with him. - Certainly.
Isn't it lucky I thought of that house?
Don't think I'd troop in every minute. I wouldn't.
I'd never come except when expressly asked to.
Well, it isn't that.
What is it?
Well, you see, the idea of artists depending upon...
...a patron lady bountiful has more or less gone out.
I see.
That wasn't especially kind of you, Mr. Connor.
I'm sorry to have seemed patronizing.
- Oh, well, I didn't mean-- - Please don't bother, really.
- Hello. - Hello. Fancy seeing you here.
Orange juice? Certainly.
Don't tell me you've forsaken your beloved whiskey and whiskeys.
No, I've just changed colors. I'm going for pale pastel shades now.
They're more becoming to me.
How about you, Mr. Connor? You drink? Alcohol, I mean.
- Well, a little. - A little?
And you a writer?
I thought writers drank to excess and beat their wives.
At one time, I think I secretly wanted to be a writer.
Dexter, would you mind doing something for me?
- Anything. What? - Get the heck out of here.
My dear, I couldn't do that. You need me too much.
Mind telling me just what you're hanging around for?
- No, no, no. Please don't go, Mr. Connor. - Please don't go.
- As a writer, this is right up your street. - Don't miss a word.
I never saw you better. You're getting that fine, tawny look.
We're going to talk about me, are we? Goody.
Astonishing what money can do. Don't you agree, Mr. Connor?
Not too much, you know, just more than enough.
Take Tracy, for example. Never a blow that hasn't been softened...
...never one that won't be softened. It changed her shape.
She was dumpy at one time.
As it happens, I'm not interested in myself for the moment.
Not interested in yourself? You're fascinated.
You're far and away your favorite person.
- Dexter, in case you don't know-- - She's a girl who's generous to a fault.
To a fault, Mr. Connor.
Except to other people's faults.
She never had any understanding of my deep and gorgeous thirst.
- That was your problem. - Granted.
But you took on that problem when you took me, Red.
- You were no helpmate. You were a scold. - It was disgusting. It made you unattractive.
A weakness, sure.
Strength is her religion, Mr. Connor.
She finds human imperfection unforgivable.
When I discovered my relationship to her...
...was supposed to be not that of a loving husband and a good companion, but....
- Oh, never mind. - Say it.
But that of a kind of high priest to a virgin goddess...
...then my drinks grew deeper and more frequent, that's all.
- I never considered you as that, nor myself. - You did without knowing it.
And the night you got drunk on champagne...
...and climbed out on the roof and stood there naked...
...with your arms out to the moon wailing like a banshee.
I never had the slightest recollection of any such thing.
I know. You drew a blank. You wanted to.
Mr. Connor, what would you...?
A nice story for Spy, incidentally.
Too bad we can't supply photos of you on the roof.
The fuss you made over that childish episode!
It was enormously important and most revealing.
The moon is also a goddess...
...chaste and virginal.
Stop using those foul words.
- What are you trying to make me out as? - What do you fancy yourself as?
I don't know that I fancy--
I can't believe you're going to marry Kittredge.
- How could you think of it? - He's everything you're not.
He's been poor. He's had to work and fight for everything...
...and I love him as I never even began to love you.
Maybe, but I doubt it. I think it's just a swing from me.
But it's too violent a swing.
Kittredge is no great tower of strength, you know. He's just a tower.
- You hardly know him. - To hardly know him is to know him well.
It offends my vanity to have anyone who was even remotely my wife...
...remarry so obviously beneath her.
How dare you, in this day and age, use such an idiotic--
I'm talking about the difference in mind and spirit.
You could marry Mac the night watchman. I'd cheer.
- Kittredge is not for you. - You bet he's for me.
He's a great man and a good man.
Already, he's of national importance.
You sound like Spy magazine talking.
But whatever he is, toots, you'll have to stick.
- He'll give you no out, as I did. - I won't require one.
I suppose you'll still be attractive to any man of spirit.
There's something engaging about this goddess business...
...more challenging to the male than the more obvious charms.
- Really? - Really.
We're very vain, you know.
This citadel can and shall be taken, and I'm the boy to do it.
You seem...
...quite contemptuous of me, all of a sudden.
No, Red. Not of you.
Never of you.
Red, you could be the finest woman on this earth.
I'm contemptuous of something you can't help or make no attempt to.
Your so-called strength.
Your prejudice against weakness, your blank intolerance.
- Is that all? - That's the gist of it.
Because you'll never be a first-class human being or woman...
...until you've learned to have some regard for human frailty.
It's a pity your own foot can't slip a little sometime.
But your sense of inner divinity wouldn't allow that.
This goddess must and shall remain intact.
There are more of you than people realize, a special class of the American female.
The married maidens.
- So help me, Dexter, if you say another-- - I'm through, Red. I've had my say.
Well...
...I suppose I should object to this twosome.
That would be most objectionable.
- Anytime either of you want my advice-- - We'll give you a ring.
Thanks. Do that, will you?
So long, Red.
I left you a little wedding present. Sorry I hadn't any ribbon to tie it up with.
Aren't you swimming?
We haven't time. Uncle Willie wants us at 8.
Look what your friend considers a wedding present.
- Why, it's a model of the True Love. - The what?