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 if it rains.
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." - An omelet's a funny wedding present.
- It was a silver dish, dear. - Bring some of that junk off the table.
Be an angel and get these things out of the way.
Yes, darling.
This stinks.
Don't say "stinks," darling.
If absolutely necessary, "smells."
These cards have been changed again.
There must be a ghost in the house, the ghost of bridegroom number one.
Don't talk about Dexter as though he were dead.
- He may as well be, for all Tracy cares. - Right.
I wouldn't say that.
If I never see Mr. C.K. Dexter Haven again, I'll be...
- Isn't that awful? - They're friends of your father's.
What are they, tap dancers or just musical comedy producers?
That's hardly fair to your father's interest in the art.
Art, my eye! The art of putting up $100,000 to display the shapely legs...
- That will do, Tracy. - I give up.
If you'd just face the facts squarely, as I did...
We'd 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 let's argue about it. You wanted me to take a stand, so I did.
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 some happiness, especially you.
- Darling. - Isn't George an angel?
- George is an angel. - Is he handsome or is he not?
George is handsome.
- I liked Dexter. - 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...
- lf I don't choke her before Saturday. - It'd postpone the wedding.
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, go out and wait in the car.
- 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 very definite opinions about certain 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?
Never play with fire, child, particularly on the eve of your wedding.
You're really a wicked old man, aren't you?
Who takes this, your cook?
I love it. It's got pictures of everything.
It certainly has.
Who is that terribly attractive man? Can Tracy pick 'em, or can she?
- Lf you're asking me... - I'm not.
- Hello, darling. - Hello!
- How do you like me? - I adore you, but you look awful.
- Awful? - Like something out of a shop window.
Cut it out! They're new!
They're new, but they're not going to be.
- There, that's better. - I don't get it.
When I was a coal miner, I wanted enough money to buy clean clothes.
Now that I'm general manager...
Dinah, is there 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 l... What's the matter?
"An average day in the life of a congressman.
"The congressman's wife. The kitchen, where is prepared...
"one banana, sliced, two fried eggs.
- "The congressman kisses his wife." - Lots of 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 of that?
What would happen if someday I got into politics?
- You'd be elected President. - I don't know about that.
- I mean about publicity. - Not in my home.
You mean our home, don't you?
Sorry, darling. I mean very much our home.
Never mind, Eddie. I'll get up myself.
Steady, Bessie.
Whoa, Bessie. Whoa.
Steady, Bessie.
Grab the reins, George, with the left hand.
- Put salt on his tail. - Shut up.
Steady, Bessie.
There. Whoa, Bessie.
What's the matter, Bessie? You act worried.
Maybe it's because his name is Jack.
Hi-ho, Silver.
That does the trick. Hello, Joe.
- Hi, Mike. - I won't do it, Liz.
I'm gonna tell Sidney Kidd very plainly I'm a writer, not a society snoop.
- I'm gonna tell him just that. - Just that.
Let Kidd fire me!
Start writin' short stories again. That's what I should be doin'.
- I'm gonna tell him just that. - Just that.
Come in.
- I don't think you're being fair. - 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 lmbrie?
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."
"Closed were the portals of snobbish fox hunting." No.
"No hunter of foxes is Spy magazine."
Anyway, presented 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.
But how can we possibly get inside the Lord estate, let alone the house?
We're not gonna do it, 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.
Fortunately, he came up yesterday on the clipper...
and I believe he can help us with our problem.
How?
Tracy Lord's brother Junius is in the American embassy down 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, does 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? - 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.
One of those, huh?
Yes, I had the strange idea our honeymoon was our own business.
Incidentally, he paid for the cameras. I got a nice 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 night as guests of the Lords.
There's somethin' screwy here.
If you've resigned, why are you doin' all this unless you...
You wanna get even with your ex-bride, huh?
I'll have a car pick them up at noon tomorrow in north Philadelphia.
Mike, there's spit in your eye. It shows.
Maybe they'd rather we go around to the servants' entrance.
Maybe this is the servants' entrance.
- Good morning, Edward. - Why, Mr. Haven!
Is Mrs. Haven... I mean, Miss Tracy or her mother in?
They may be at the swimming pool, sir. Shall I announce you?
No. I'll go around myself and surprise them.
It will indeed be a surprise, sir.
These are friends of Mr. Junius's. Have them wait in the south parlor.
Certainly, Mr. Haven.
Excuse me, sir.
The south parlor?
Miss lmbrie, the south parlor.
The queen will have bread and honey at the usual time.
Seems a little cold for the south parlor.
I'd rather expected to find pickaninnies and banjos.
What's this room? I forgot my compass.
This would be south-southwest parlor by living room.
Knickknacks, gimcracks, signed photographs.
You'd have to be as 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 run a hockshop on the side.
Just lookin' around.
I'll want your fingerprints for this.
Hey, what's this... What's this guy Haven up to?
C.K. Dexter Haven.
What kind of a name is that? C.K. Dexter Haven.
Macaulay Connor's no homespun tag, my pet.
Yeah, you just try callin' 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. - Don't despair.
He's out. Kittredge, man of the people, is in.
Quite a comer too, I understand. Political timber.
Poor guy. I wonder how he fell for it.
Uh-oh, Liz. What did I tell you? How do you like this?
"Living room, sitting room, terrace, pool, stables."
That's so they can talk to the horses without having them in the house.
Don't, Mike!
Yes?
This is the bridal suite.
Send up some caviar sandwiches and a bottle of 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.
- Dexter, you've come back! - Ah, Dinah, my dream girl!
What in the name of...
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 wouldn't. I assure you I wouldn't.
- Tell us all about Junius. - Stay 'til lunch.
Don't open your house. Stay here. We're having no guests over the wedding.
- How about the groom? - He's staying at the gatehouse.
Oh, that's good.
- Junius is fine. - He should be here.
He's heartbroken. I suggested representing him as best man...
I'm afraid that 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 from liquor to dope, by any chance?
- You see? - The people Junius did send?
You don't know a Macaulay Connor or Elizabeth lmbrie, do you?
- We can finish these later. - I'd better introduce you.
Call me for... Introduce me to whom?
To Miss lmbrie and Mr. Connor, to tell them which rooms they'd have.
Mr. Connor is asking if he should wear a black or white tie to tonight's party.
- Rooms? - I'd better start from the beginning.
Sit down, dear. They're great friends of Junius's.
And they expect to stay here? I think that's very queer.
I think it's queerer than that. I think it's paranoiac.
You see, it was Junius's idea. They've been very kind to him, and...
You're lying, Dexter. I can always tell.
- Can you, Red? - They're Junius's friends.
You went to work after the divorce, didn't you?
Yes, except for a brief interlude in some alcoholic sanitariums.
You took a job in South America. Who for?
- A magazine. - It wasn't Spy magazine?
You are a mass of intuition.
I don't suppose that Junius's friends are photographers?
- I thought you were low, but I never... - What are you going to do?
- After I've telephoned Junius... - Wait, Red.
Don't 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.
Please, Mother. Maybe he's going to sock her.
Don't say "sock," darling. "Strike" is quite an ugly enough word.
Who do they think they are, barging in on peaceful 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 small blackmail?
It's an article, complete with snapshots, details and insinuations...
and it's ready for publication in Spy...
and it's about your father and that dancer in New York.
About Father and Tina Mara?
Quiet. Dinah.
But they can't, even if it's true.
- Where do you get these? - From Sidney Kidd, editor and publisher.
- He's got to be stopped. - He is, temporarily.
That is, if you'll allow those two to turn in the story on your wedding.
And when Kidd says a story, he means a story.
- I'm gonna be sick. - Yes, dear.
"An Intimate Day With a Society Bride."
I am sick.
It's tough, but that's the way it seems to be.
So I'm to be examined, undressed and generally humiliated...
at 15 cents a copy.
And you, you... You're loving it.
Am I, Red?
Mother, we're hooked.
- Are they really reporters? - Not even friends of Junius's?
They aren't anybody's friends, but we're to pretend they are.
- But why? - Don't ask me.
There's a good reason, and it's my wedding, so please!
I'll bet it's on account of Father and that dancer.
- Dinah, what do you know? - I listen around.
Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?
Only in bed, Mother, and not always there.
Watching every little mannerism...
jotting down notes on how we sit, stand, talk, eat and move!
- Will they do that? - All in that horrible, snide English.
If we have to submit to it to save Father's face...
which, incidentally, doesn't deserve it...
I'll give them a picture of home life that'll stand their hair on end!
Tracy, we must just be ourselves, very much ourselves.
But you want us to create a good impression, don't you?
They don't know that we know what they're here for?
No. That was understood. The girl's quite nice.
He writes short stories. Very down to earth.
- They'll love us. - Oh, dear, you'd both better dress.
And 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.
What'll they say about Seth not being here for his own daughter's wedding?
I know, dear.
You'd better go and tell them how terribly happy we are to have them.
That's the old Quaker spirit, Mother Lord.
Keep swinging.
Oh. I thought it was that butler.
The family will be down to welcome you.
- What with? - With open arms.
They're terribly happy to have any friends of Junius's here.
- Do they 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 very well? - Well enough.
"General manager of Quaker State Coal, company 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 Banker's Annual, Directory of Directors."
- Is there a library in town? - Yes.
I suppose you wouldn't know where that is?
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?
I am Dinah Lord.
My real name is Diana, but my sister changed it.
I'm Elizabeth lmbrie. This is Macaulay Connor.
Enchantée de vous voir! Enchantée de faire votre connaissance!
I spoke French before I spoke English.
My early childhood was spent in Paris where my father worked in a bank:
- The House of Morgan. - Really?
C'est vrai absolument!
Can you play the piano? I can, and sing at the same time!
Listen.
Lydia, oh, Lydia Say, have you met Lydia
Oh, Lydia the tattooed lady
She has eyes that folks adore so
And a torso even more so
What is this?
Idiot, probably.
The queen of tattoos
On her back is the battle of Waterloo
Beside it the wreck of the Hesperus too
And proudly above waves the red, white
And blue
You can learn a lot from Lydia
Ah, petite soeur, tu es un véritable petit Chopin!
- Tu trouves? - Mais certainement.
Mais qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Voyons, tu es pâle.
Montre-moi ta langue. J'espere bien que ce n'est pas le smallpox.
- Le smallpox? - Mais oui.
Va dire a maman de se dépecher!
Oh. 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 male members of the family are going to be here.
- Where's your father? - Darling Papa.
- I do hope you'll stay for my wedding. - We'd like to very much.
- That was our idea. - I'm so glad that it occurred to you.
The house is in 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 an awful nuisance with it.
But you couldn't be. I hope you'll take loads.
Dear Papa and Mama aren't allowing any 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.
In 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.
- Yeah, 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.
But that doesn't always cause unhappiness, does it?
Not if you're the right kind of man.
George Kittredge, my fiancé, never had anything either, and he...
Are either of you married?
You mean you were, but now you're divorced.
- The fact is... - Surely you're not ashamed of it.
- Of course I'm not. - What?
It was years ago. I was only a kid in Duluth.
Good heavens, Liz. You never told me.
- You never asked me. - I know, but you...
Joe Smith, hardware.
You're the darnedest girl, Liz.
I think I'm sweet.
Duluth 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 old place, don't you think? Filled with relics.
And how old are you, Mr. Connor?
Thirty.
One book isn't much for a man of 30.
I don't mean to criticize.
You probably have other interests outside your work.
None.
I mean us.
How sweet.
Are you going together?
- I beg your pardon? - That is an odd question.
I don't see why. I think it's very interesting.
Miss lmbrie, don't you agree...
that if a man says he loves a girl, he ought to marry her?
Can she be human?
Please, Mr. Connor. I asked Miss lmbrie a question.
Well, that depends. L...
I'll see what's keeping Mama.
Who's doing the interviewing here?
- You don't suppose she caught on? - No, she was born that way.
- Don't let her throw ya. - Do you want to take over?
- I wanna go home. - Ah, here you are.
How do you do? We're so happy to have you.
Forgive me for not coming in sooner, but things are in such a state.
My little girl.
She's going to leave me.
Aren't you pretty, my dear. But then Junius's 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?
- This is my youngest daughter, Diana. - I think we've met.
I wish my husband could be here. We expect him presently.
He's detained in New York on business for that lovely dancer, Tina Mara.
- Do you know her work? - Not professionally.
So talented, and such a lovely person...
but like so 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 these people as a wedding present.
Mr. Kittredge, this is Miss... I'm so sorry.
- Imbrie. - Any friend of Junius's is my friend.
And, uh, Mr. Morrow?
- I didn't get the name. - Connor.
Macauley Connor.
He's a writer.
Don't apologize, Mrs. Lord.
No apology necessary. I have great respect for writers.
Well, thank you. Any kind word is...
- How are you? - Much better now that you're here.
Oh, I guess this must be love, huh?
- 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, Miss lmbrie.
You will.
Shall we have some sherry?
I suppose Junius has told you all about our happy little family.
- Papa! - What?
Dear Papa.
You angel to get here in time for lunch!
- Isn't he, Mama? - Indeed he is, but...
Father, these are our friends, Miss lmbrie and Mr. Connor.
- How are you, Mr. Lord? - Oh, just fine, thank you.
- How are you? - How do you do?
How do you do?
Howdy, Pops.
Oh, dear Dinah.
- Father, here's George. - How are you, 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.
Darling, I've 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? - Beautifully, Dexter.
We're so indebted to you for these lovely people.
It's almost impossible to repay that debt.
But you'll manage, eh, Red?
- They grew up together, you know. - How nice.
You don't look old enough to get married...
not even the first time, but then you never did.
She needs trouble to mature her, Kittredge. Give her lots of it.
I'm afraid she can't count on me for that.
No? That's too bad.
For your own sake, Red, you should have stuck to me longer.
I thought it was for life, but the nice judge gave me a full pardon.
Ah, that's the old redhead. No bitterness, no recrimination.
Just a good swift left to the jaw.
They grew up together.
Luncheon is served, madam.
Oh, thank you, Edward. Come sit. 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 to myself...
"Seth, you lucky dog, what have you done to deserve it all?"
And what have you?
Oh, thank you.
Oh, how stupid of me!
Oh, dear! How awful!
I had a feeling that would happen.
Your camera. 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. - Yes, madam.
I'm afraid I don't understand.
You never have, but you came anyway, didn't you?
Oh. Still Justice with her shining sword, eh, daughter?
- Who's on the spot? - We are, thanks to you...
Uncle Willie.
How long will you be researching?
Not long if I can find the right books... his family history and stuff like that.
There's a cousin Joanna that's definitely crazy.
- Who told you? - Dinah.
- Dinah should know. - Come across the street when you finish.
- Miss Hobson's establishment. - Okay.
What does thee wish?
I'm looking for some local b...
- What'd you say? - What does thee wish?
Um, local biography or history.
If thee will, consult with my colleague in there.
Dost thou have a washroom?
Thank thee.
I know this is a public library, but I wou...
- Hello. - Hello.
Couldn't you afford to buy my book?
The bookstore didn't have one.
Are you sure you're doing the right thing?
You know what happens to girls like you when they read books like mine.
They begin to think. That's bad.
These stories are beautiful.
Why, Connor, they're almost poetry.
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 talk so big and tough, and then you write like this.
Which is which?
Both, I guess.
No, I believe you put the toughness on to save your skin.
You think so?
I know a little about that.
- Do you? - Quite a lot.
Let's get out of here.
This book was just such a complete surprise to me.
L... let's walk, shall we? Lt'll be much more fun.
Take this. Tell Mr. Kittredge we'll meet him at the pool.
Yes, Miss Tracy.
The story called, "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?
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. - Unhappily it is.
This is beautiful country around here. What is it all, anyway?
Part of our place. What about your Miss lmbrie?
Well, Miss lmbrie's in somewhat the same fix.
She's a born painter and might be a very important one...
but Miss lmbrie must eat, and she also prefers a roof over her head...
to being constantly out in the rain and snow.
Food and a roof.
You've really got something here.
- Where? - All this.
Oh. Come on. The dressing rooms are over here.
I think you'll find everything you need.
Use any old one, but I think you'll find most of the junk in there.
- Yell if you need anything. - Okay.
I have an idea.
I have the most wonderful little house in Uniondale.
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, uh...
Heck, that's Dexter.
Look, if he comes here, stand by, will you?
- I don't want to be alone with him. - Certainly, if you like.
Isn't it lucky that I happened to think about that house?
And don't think I'd come trooping in every minute, because 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.
Oh. I see.
That wasn't especially kind of you, Mr. Connor.
I'm sorry to have seemed patronizing.
- Now, look, I didn't mean... - Please don't bother.
- 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 their color.
I'm going for the pale pastel shades. They're more becoming to me.
How about you, Mr. Connor? You drink, don't you?
- Alcohol, I mean. - A little.
A little? And you're a writer?
Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought all writers drank to excess and beat their wives.
You know, 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.
I couldn't do that.
That wouldn't be fair to you. You need me too much.
Would you tell me what you're hanging around for?
- No, please don't go, Mr. Connor. - No, please don't go, Mr. Connor.
As a writer, this ought to be right up your street.
Don't miss a word.
I never saw you looking better, Red. You're getting that fine, tawny look.
Oh, we're going to talk about me, are we? Goody.
It's astonishing what money can do for people, don't you agree, Mr. Connor?
Not too much, you know. Just more than enough.
Take Tracy, for example.
There was never a blow that hasn't been softened for her.
Never a blow that won't be softened. It's even changed her shape.
- She was once a dumpy little thing. - I'm not interested in myself now.
Not interested in yourself? You're fascinated, Red.
You're far and away your favorite person in the world.
- In case you don't know... - Of course, Mr. Connor...
she's a girl who's generous to a fault.
To a fault, Mr. Connor.
Except to other people's faults.
For instance, she never had any understanding...
of my deep and gorgeous thirst.
- That was your problem. - Granted.
But you took on that problem with me when you took me, Red.
You were no helpmate there. You were a scold.
It was disgusting. It made you so unattractive.
A weakness, sure, and strength is her religion, Mr. Connor.
She finds human imperfection unforgivable.
When I discovered that 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.
I never considered you as that nor myself.
You did it without knowing it.
And the night that 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 doing any such thing.
You drew a blank. You wanted to.
Mr. Connor, what would you... oh.
A nice story for Spy, incidentally.
Yes. Too bad we can't supply photographs of you on the roof.
Honestly, the fuss you made over that silly, childish epis...
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 myself...
When I read you're gonna marry Kittredge I couldn't believe it.
That's why I'm here. How could he even think of it?
Because he's everything you're not.
He's been poor, he's had to work, and he's had to fight for everything...
and I love him as I never even began to love you.
Maybe so, but I doubt it. It's just a swing from me...
but it's too violent a swing.
Kittredge is no great tower of strength.
He's just a tower.
You hardly know him.
To hardly know him is to know him well.
Perhaps 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 for you.
- 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'd still be attractive to any man of spirit, though.
There's something engaging about it, this "goddess" business...
something 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 inside you you either can't help or won't try 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 a first-class woman...
until you've learned to have 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, if you say another word...
I'm through, Red. For the moment I've had my say.
I suppose I should object to this twosome.
That would be most objectionable.
Any time either of you want my advice...
- We'll give you a ring. - Thanks. Do that, will you?
So long, Red.
I left you a wedding present. Sorry I hadn't ribbon to tie it up with.
Aren't you swimming?
We haven't time. Uncle Willie wants us at 8:00.
Look what your friend considers a wedding present.
- Why, it's a model of the True Love. - The what?
A boat he designed and built, practically.
We sailed it down the coast of Maine and back the summer we were married.
My, she was yare!
"Yare"? What's that mean?
It means, uh... Oh, what does it mean?
Easy to handle, quick to the helm. Fast, bright.
Everything a boat should be...
until she develops dry rot.
Oh, George, to get away.
Somehow to be useful in the world.
Useful? You, Tracy?
I'm gonna build you an ivory tower with my own two hands.
Like fun you are.
You mean you've been in one too long?
Well, I mean that and a lot of things.
You know, we're gonna represent something, Tracy...
you and I and our home.
Something straight, sound and fine.
Then perhaps Mr. Haven will be somewhat less condescending.
You don't really mind him, do you?
I mean the fact of him?
"Fact of him"? What do you mean?
I mean... Well, you know.
That he ever was my lord and master.
That we ever were...
I don't believe he ever was, Tracy.
Not really.
I don't believe that anyone ever was or ever will be.
That's the wonderful thing about you, Tracy.
What? How?
You're like some marvelous, distant, well, queen, I guess.
You're so cool and fine and always so much your own.
There's a kind of beautiful purity about you, Tracy, like a statue.
- George... - It's grand, Tracy.
It's what everybody feels about you.
It's what I first worshipped you for from afar.
- George, listen. - First, now and always.
Only from a little nearer now, eh, darling?
L... I don't want to be worshipped. I want to be loved.
Well, you're that too, Tracy. You're that, all right.
I mean really loved.
But that goes without saying, Tracy.
No. No, now it's you who doesn't see what I mean.
I'd better get dressed. I hate to be late.