# I can't give you anything but love, baby
# That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby
# Dream a while
# Scheme a while
# You're sure to find
# Happiness, and I guess
# All the things you've always pined for
# Gee, I'd like to see you looking swell, baby
# Diamond cufflinks Woolworth's doesn't sell, baby
# Till that lucky day you know darn well, baby
# I can't give you anything but love
# That's the thing I've plenty of
# Dream a while
# Scheme a while
# You're sure to find
# Happiness, and I guess
# All the things you've always pined for
# Gee, I'd like to see you looking swell, baby
# Diamond cufflinks Woolworth's doesn't sell, my baby
# Till that lucky day you know darn well, baby
# I can't give you anything but love
# I can't give you anything but love, baby
# I can't give you anything
# But love #
This is my friend Harry Allen.
He's married.
He likes his wife.
It can happen.
I'm sorry, Mr. Allen, were you calling for me?
Yes, Miss Jones.
Get Mr. Langley on the phone for me.
Yes, sir. Right away, sir.
Myself? I always thought marriage was a mild kind of illness.
Like the flu or chickenpox,
to which I was safely immune.
It all began on the 5th of September, 1949,
when Harry called to ask me to lunch at the Cloud Room,
saying he had something urgent he wished to tell me.
So, what's so damn important?
To our mutual good health.
Uh-huh.
You're not dying on me or something, old chap, are you?
No.
Just the opposite.
So?
Let's grab a table before it gets too crowded.
Do you like Pat, Rich?
I mean, are you fond of her?
Of course I like Pat. She's your wife.
You know I'm fond of her.
Since the day I met her.
Of course.
What are you getting at?
Well, I'm going to leave Pat.
And I thought I'd better tell you.
I thought you ought to know.
Why, may I ask, are you gonna leave Pat?
Because I want to be truly happy.
Oh. That sounds reasonable.
I'm being very reasonable.
Well, what's her name?
Look, I know you and Pat well enough to figure
your marriage is not an unhappy one.
As a matter of fact, as marriages go,
I always thought it was pretty good.
The most successful marriage I've ever known.
Her name is Kay.
It's Kay Nesbitt.
Pat will take it hard.
I know. I tried telling her. I couldn't.
I can't stand to see anyone suffer.
You know how I am.
Why don't you have Kay, if you want,
as your girlfriend?
Just to make sure.
What, you mean as a mistress?
Just to make sure.
I am sure.
I always dreamed of a woman being really in love with me, Richard.
For Pat, love means only one thing.
And what is that?
Sex.
All the rest of it, the romantic dreams, the self-deception,
what you always call "the wish to give and give," Harry,
it all boils down to that. Bed.
Love is sex.
The rest is affection and companionship.
You're wrong.
You're completely and utterly wrong.
Well, you're a romantic and sentimental fool.
If you don't want the truth, you shouldn't ask me questions.
But I do love you, darling.
I do. Really.
And you know I find you as attractive
as that very first night we danced together.
I know you do.
Perhaps I'm not made like other women.
I don't know.
I've tried to be a good wife to you.
From the day we were married,
she committed herself,
she came to life.
But physically only.
Only physically, Richard.
I know some men crave that sex,
but I want more.
We all have to put up with something in life, Harry.
We can't have everything.
You can't possibly understand.
You're with a different woman every other week.
I'm going to have to find a way to leave Pat.
I have to.
I've made up my mind.
Dear, sweet, gentle Kay.
What on earth drew a girl like you to my friend Harry?
That I could never understand.
Maybe you were lonely.
Maybe you were smitten.
In truth, who can ever explain a woman's desire?
It's always been a bit of a mystery.
It was the next Sunday that, as habit,
Harry and Pat walked to have lunch with their daughter Becky,
her husband Tom and their grandson, little Charlie.
Good afternoon.
Hello.
That awful dog.
That awful woman.
Poor old Mrs. Walsh.
So I said, "What you have is an inability to express your emotions.
"You're frigid in a Freudian sense,"
which completely confused her, the poor woman.
So I told her that without a very serious analysis,
she would never get over it.
We talked about her childhood for an hour.
Harry was already looking forward to his evening with Kay.
He'd made all the proper arrangements.
All his excuses were lined up.
It has always been the privilege of the well-to-do
to use their business as camouflage.
Gotta go.
Harry, it's Sunday.
Duty calls, darling.
I need to get a head start on tomorrow's meetings.
So be it. It is on your own head.
But when evil comes to you...
I appreciate the television set, darling, I do.
That's all I want to do, Kay.
I want to spoil you,
and shower you with gifts,
and give and give.
Just to see you smile.
I love that smile.
Harry, you're such a romantic.
That's why I love you.
He had to get out of his marriage.
He had to have Kay.
But how?
He couldn't stand to shatter Pat's world and make her suffer.
You know, the other week at the cabin,
John O'Brien was telling Newt Baum
that he thinks a woman who does a lot for her man
can pay a heavy price.
What do you suppose he meant?
Oh, it's all rather uncomplicated, I'm sure.
He was drinking. You know John.
What is the price a good wife pays?
Tell me.
I don't know.
Let's skip it. You'll upset your stomach.
No, go on.
I'd say he was probably thinking that
if a married man
falls in love with another woman,
the dedicated wife is surprised and hurt.
And she remembers him as he was.
Before they married, and she sees him now,
as she made him.
A better-finished product altogether.
A product another woman is soon going to enjoy.
You've given this a lot of thought.
I know you don't love me anymore.
No.
I do love you.
Pat.
Pat?
Pat! Pat?
Pat?
Thanks for coming at this ungodly hour, Doc.
That's all in a day's work.
I thought she was having a heart attack.
Not a bad way to go, coronary thrombosis.
If you ask me, it's the most merciful death of all.
Quick and easy.
But, no, she's fine.
The pain in her chest is most likely caused
by an emotional condition.
Are you aware of anything that could disturb her emotionally?
Anything at all?
No. Nothing I can think of.
When it comes to the opposite sex, most men are selfish.
Whereabouts does she live, Harry?
Fairhaven.
I'm no exception.
She's got a little house with a flower garden down there,
and a decent job in town, selling wallpaper.
I wanted Harry's girl.
That's near your weekend cabin.
Yeah, not far. That's right.
You know, if you come by one weekend to see us at the cabin,
you should stop by and say hello to Kay.
Hmm.
There's not much for her to do out there.
When I'm not around, she's just curled up with a book by the fireplace.
She's a reader, you know.
Hmm.
Is she?
I want you to get to know her, the way you know Pat.
Oh, but she won't want to see me.
I assure you, she'd love to see you.
She'll have nothing to do with someone like me, Harry.
You know how honest-to-goodness women
run kicking and screaming,
when they see me coming.
Well, stick with me, my friend.
I'll make a good man out of you yet.
It was while Harry was away on business that I visited her first.
As a friend.
Or a friend of a friend.
These look wonderful. Thank you.
Is this your father?
Yes, it is.
He died of cancer, the day after Christmas, 1931.
Oh, I'm sorry.
He looks like a kind man.
He was a drunk, actually.
But he was kind, at least to us kids.
Thank you. You're welcome.
That's my late husband, Ronald.
The men in my life don't seem to live very long.
I'll warn Harry.
Please do.
Ronnie and I moved here right after we were married.
But he went missing right at the beginning of the war.
The Navy declared him officially dead.
February of '47.
It's funny
how he kept me hoping.
His body was never found.
I'm sorry.
I only had him for about three years,
but I really don't regret a moment.
You're lucky.
Why? Do you regret anything?
Hmm.
Lots.
And much more to come.
But about two years ago,
I pulled myself together.
And then with Harry's help.
My dear, sweet Harry.
Would you care for a real drink?
Yes, please. Okay.
I'll take a whiskey. Straight up.
My mother came to live with me at the beginning of the war.
And taught me to laugh at everything.
A year ago, she died.
Thank you.
So here I am. Gloomy, lonely Kay.
That's my life, in a nutshell.
What about coming out with me for a dinner?
We could go into town or someplace nearby.
Come on. Little change would do you good.
Well, I don't see why not.
Thank you. - Sure.
You know, the trouble with Harry is
he's a man who depends on emotions for happiness.
And he's married to a woman
who maybe doesn't.
Is that what Harry says?
No, that's what I think.
Harry's just never had anyone truly in love with him.
Until now.
Yes, until now.
You know, he loves you very much.
Yes.
It must be difficult to be apart.
I hate it.
You know, they say
a woman needs to be loved, and that's true.
But it's not the whole truth.
She also needs somebody to love.
Sounds old-fashioned.
But it's true.
I'm sure it is.
I want to look after Harry,
just as he wants to look after me.
You're his closest friend. You know.
He's been hurt and disillusioned.
And I want to heal him.
Like a nurse.
Well, then.
Let's have some pie.
No, I'm fine, thank you.
One pie. Two forks.
Do you think I'm wrong to want to marry Harry?
I'm not the judge of your conscience.
I don't know you that well.
I just want him to be happy.
Well, I do, too.
And I can make him happy.
Happier than he's been.
Then it's agreed.
Are you in love with Harry?
I love him dearly.
Are you in love with him?
Yes.
Did I sense a breath of hesitation?
I thought I did.
I wanted to.
Should I come in for one last cup of coffee?
No. I'm pooped.
Okay.
Good night, then.
Good night. Thanks a bunch.
When are you and Stephen getting married?
September the 3rd is the date we've set.
Then I shall miss the wedding.
I sail on September the 3rd.
Something was happening to me.
Something I had never felt before.
The thought that those colorless lips of Harry's
should ever be allowed to press upon Kay's mouth
tortured me day and night.
I love you.
Where was he now?
With his wife, like a good husband should be?
Or with Kay? In her home?
In her arms?
In her bed?
I had to find out.
Pat, how are you?
Fine, Rich.
Yourself?
Oh, couldn't be better.
How is the old chap?
Out of town. On business. As usual.
Oh, I didn't know that.
Neither did he. He plumb forgot.
I tell you, I don't know where he'd be
if he didn't have me to organize him.
Can you hear me, Rich?
Mmm-hmm. We've had troubles with the line.
Rich? Yes. I hear you fine. I, um...
Well, I suppose I'm just a little tired.
You sound as though you need a vacation.
Maybe a quiet weekend at your cabin.
Anytime.
You know your room is always ready.
Well, thank you. Thank you so much, Pat.
And, well, good night.
Good night, dear.
Pat Allen could never imagine that her husband would lie to her.
So much for women's intuition.
I never believed much in it.
I believe even less now.
How far are you going?
Couple of miles down the road.
Thanks for stopping, pal.
Mind if I turn up the heat a little?
It's bitter out there.
Alvin's my name. Alvin Walters.
Nice meeting you, Alvin.
Care for a smoke?
No, thank you.
You're out late.
I was with my sister. My oldest. You?
Just visiting a friend.
Whereabouts does your sister live?
Ferndale.
She died tonight.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Very sorry.
Frankly, pal, I was happy to see her go.
She was barely hanging on for the last seven months.
We all gotta go sometime.
It's not dying that counts, it's how you die.
And she died bad and slow.
Both my parents died in my youth,
so I'm no stranger to death.
The last two days were real bad.
Then the poison just burst right into the walls of her stomach,
and she was gone.
"A blessed release," she called it, and that's the truth.
It was a blessed release.
Just ended.
She's at peace now, Mildred.
That's all that matters.
She's happy.
And so,
with the innocent touch of his wife's hand,
Harry's mind was made up.
He would have to kill her.
"A blessed release."
It was the only logical way for him to save Pat from suffering.
And he would never doubt it again.
Once the emotions involved in taking a decision to murder have subsided,
the greater emotion involved in the crime lies ahead.
Between plan and final action,
there's a wide gap.
You know, you've gotta be careful with Altrapeine.
That stuff can be dangerous.
Yes, I know.
I keep it hidden away tightly in my darkroom.
If you got kids around...
No.
I don't have any children. Thank you.
I have to ask you to sign for it.
Of course.
Right here at the "x". If you don't mind.
Alvin's my name. Alvin Walters.
So, what kind you got?
Huh?
Camera.
Uh...
All kinds.
Sir?
You do need to pay.
Uh, pardon me.
How was your trip, darling?
Nothing unusual.
You're still in your coat. Are you cold?
I just wanted to see you first
before I settled in for the night.
I missed you, too.
I think we should go to the cabin this weekend.
Spend some time alone.
Harry, we can't. What about our plans with the Arnoffs?
Cancel them.
I want to be alone with you.
Okay.
I might go up a little early, then.
Okay.
I'll go get ready for bed.
Good night.
I love you.
On Friday afternoon, the 7th of October,
I took the rest of the day off
and drove north to the Allen cabin.
I had visited Kay quite a few times by then.
But today I knew Harry would be up there.
I was restless.
I needed to know how much time I had before Harry left Pat.
Before I lost Kay forever.
Jesus Christ!
John O'Brien.
O'Brien was part of Harry and Pat's group.
An unpublished fiction writer of some talent.
And to his credit, the only one among us who actually fought the Huns.
He lived alone nearby and traveled every so often to town
for drinks and inspiration.
Richard?
Ah!
John.
Yes, I was just popping in on Pat and Harry
for a breath of fresh country air.
"The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold."
Yes.
Come in this way.
Thanks.
How are you, Richard? Yes, very good. Thank you.
Hello, Pat.
Got a bed for an old friend?
Of course I have, Rich.
You know that, or you wouldn't be here.
God, it's a lovely evening.
Isn't it? Absolutely gorgeous.
Should be fine tomorrow, too, judging by the sunset.
I should buy a house in the country.
You really should.
Yes.
Maybe I will one day.
Would you like a cup of coffee?
No, thanks.
I can put some on.
Please. Don't make it especially for me.
I could do with a cup.
And some cookies, if you got them, Pat.
Maybe Richard would prefer a whiskey and soda
to warm him up after the drive.
I expect Pat could provide it, Rich.
I think just a cup of coffee will do, thanks.
Sure.
Maybe I should go upstairs, and see if I can freshen up.
It seems I forgot my weekend bag.
I'm sorry.
I'll survive.
Well... Now you know, don't you?
Know what?
How things stand between Pat and me.
Yes. Yes, I guess I do.
At least I know how things appear to stand.
But appearance is not everything.
I saw you kissing her if that's what you mean.
That's exactly what I mean.
Yes, well, it's none of my business.
I'm not married to Pat, and I have no need to cause trouble.
Pat's not the first woman to flirt a little
when her husband's out of the house.
It's not a flirtation.
As far as I'm concerned,
I've seen nothing.
The fire can play strange tricks.
It's not for me to pass on stories
that could be based on a vivid imagination.
I'm very much in love with John.
And he's in love with me.
That's the way it is.
So.
Divorce?
No.
No divorce.
Not ever?
I made a bargain with Harry, and I'll keep it.
In sickness and in health.
If I thought he didn't need me so much...
But I'm all he's got to hang on to, you know?
He has no one.
I'm very fond of Harry.
And I can't stand the thought of what he might do if I left him.
Do you think he might commit suicide?
Perhaps not so much that.
He may start drinking. Maybe.
And his clothes would all go to pot.
He'd be lonely.
He'd get caught up with some floozy
who would drag him down and take all his money with her.
What do you think, John?
I guess Pat knows him best.
Poor guy hasn't had much fun out of life, that's for sure.
Do you want to know my thoughts?
Please.
He would be lost without you, Pat.
I certainly think he might try to kill the pain in some way.
Drinking, maybe.
Too much at first.
No, thank you.
And the business.
I can't stand to think what that humiliation would do to him.
And think of yourself, Pat.
I'm not at all certain that one can build happiness
upon the unhappiness of someone else.
Some could.
But not someone with your burden of conscience.
You're too good.
Thanks for being so honest.
Don't you think, Rich, he might marry again?
With some nice woman or other.
No, I don't.
I don't think Harry would ever fall in love again.
Pat is his entire world.
And don't forget I've known him since childhood.
Harry arrived late that evening,
not long after O'Brien had left.
He was disappointed to learn I was there.
I didn't know why at the time.
I didn't know of his plans for Pat,
and that he needed to be alone with her.
I'll put the water on.
I didn't know there was a murderer in the house.
Good evening, Rich.
Good to see you, Harry.
Can you believe this cold weather?
Yeah, I got it.
Just what I need.
Pharmaceuticals.
That's the future.
I could use a good stock tip if you have one, Harry.
What I could use is a drink.
Harry!
He just went to sleep and died.
Oh, Pat.
Harry.
Poor old Brutus.
His heart just stopped.
Here you go. Here you go. Here you go. Shh, shh.
At least he didn't have to suffer.
It was a practice run.
And it confirmed everything Harry was capable of.
You'll have to come and stay with Kay and me when we're married.
When are you gonna tell Pat?
One of these days.
Seeing her standing there,
I was suddenly swept by a wave
of the most revolting sentimentality.
I had never imagined that I could be moved
to sacrifice my own desires for Kay.
But that is what I now proposed to do.
And it made me feel happy.
I will come clean.
I knew enough to set them all free.
Pat?
Yes?
Pat...
What is it, Rich? Please, tell me.
I could go to town and buy a stone
with Brutus' name on it, if you'd like.
Yes.
That would be nice.
What do you say, Harry?
Yeah, if you'd like.
If only Harry had stayed by the grave a minute longer,
so much might have been changed.