All language subtitles for The.Grass.Is.Greener.1960.1080p.BluRay.x264.YIFY.eng

Darling, you'll love
it when you get there.

You know on Tuesday, Aunt Rose has
organized a treasure hunt on ponies.

Oh, Mommy.

- Come along, Phillip. Chop to it.
- Emma, Emma.

- Have you?
- Yes, Mommy.

- Let's go, shall we Ms. Mathews?
- Oh, Ms. Mathews.

I put your writing
case on the front seat.

The right way up
I hope.

In you get.

Come along.

- In you get.
- There you are dear.

Bye, bye, Mommy.

Bye, bye, Sweetie.

Can you write to Aunt Rose to
say I needn't eat milk puddings?

Yes, my darling.
I'll telephone right away.

I'll see to that when we get there.
Now in you go dear.

Emma, look after Phillip,
won't you?

Yes, Mommy.

Good, darling.
Have a lovely time.

Goodbye, Mommy.

Bye, bye, Daddy.

I can't really believe it.

We're not going to see Ms. Mathews
for 2 whole weeks.

I shall wake up and find
it's all a beautiful dream.

The vicar telephoned earlier,
my lord.

Asked me to give you
the lessons for Sunday.

Deuteronomy
and Mathew.

He asked me to assure you
they're both quite short.

Thank you, Sellers.

Why I beg your pardon,
my lord.

What Sellers?

Have you finished
with the Times?

Yes, I think so. Why?

Then would you mind
if I had it now?

No, what do you want the Times for?
Want to light a fire?

What do you want to light a fire for?
It's much too warm for a fire.

Oh, no. I want to do
the crossword.

Oh, well it's over
in our quarters.

Doesn't it strike you
as a little odd, my lord.

That your butler should want to borrow the
Times in the middle of a Friday morning?

It isn't even my day off.

- Yes, I suppose. I hadn't really thought
about it. / - Excuse me, my lord.

We've had a meeting.

And we've decided
we must have more help.

You know Nanny I don't
have anything to do with that.

I don't employ you personally.
You speak to the government.

You know the place.
The national, you know.

Yes, my lord.

Now, now,
where was I Sellers?

Oh, yes!

What do you want to do the
crossword for? Are you bored?

To death, my lord.

But why
aren't you working?

I haven't any work
to do.

How's that?

I've done the silver.

I've got nothing to do now
except serve your tea at 4:30.

Yes?

You see, my lord.

I feel the most terrible
waste of money.

I don't really think you
should have a butler at all.

Yes, I don't mean
to be impertinent.

What do you mean
to be then?

You see, my lord.
You're a contemporary.

What does that mean?

- You're not modern.
- You mean

- I'm an antique.
- No, my lord. You're traditional.

Ever since your family first lived in
this house, they've always had butlers.

But nowadays you don't need one.
Don't you see that, my lord?

There's nothing
for me to do.

Really, there isn't.

But I...

Well, I.

What Sellers?

Well, I should be much happier if
you were to get rid of me altogether.

Or reduce my wages by
3 pounds a week.

Now what you're saying is,
in effect, is that I'm old fashioned,

out-of-date, and clinging to a way of
life that's had dry rot in it for years.

No, no,
I didn't say that.

Well, you're quite wrong.

This house and these lands
may be mine entitled.

But I regard them as a small part
of England that I hold and trust.

In trust,
not only for my son.

But for the future.

That can't be right,
can it?

And I'm preserving things in
the most commercial way possible.

The farm pays.

The market-garden pays.

The hens pay and even
the souvenirs pay.

Yes, I do see all that,
my lord.

And the reason I employ you
is because I'm well aware

that the paying public
who parade through this house

at 2 shilling and 6 pence ahead,
1 half-crown.

Are far more thrilled by catching
a glimpse of a real live butler

then they are by the Rembrandt
at the top of the staircase.

So, you see, I am in fact
extremely modern.

And very business-like.

And to prove it to you
I'll accept your offer

and reduce your wages by
3 pounds a week beginning Monday.

- There's the change for today,
Ms. Heller. / - Oh, thank you.

Half ground, 2 shillings.

Oh, Sellers.

Would you take the mushrooms
to the station this afternoon.

- I'll have them packed by 4.
- Very good, my lady.

Darling,
I've got your coffee.

Oh, good. Sellers?

How many half-crowns are
there in 3 pounds?

About a bus load,
my lord.

I was just wondering.

What my love?

Do you think if I was
terribly clever with Sellers

I could get him to give
the children their lessons?

Give the children their lessons?
Are you out of your mind?

No, only
from 9:30 to 12.

He's a butler,
not a governess.

Yes, but it would mean
we needn't have a governess.

I could manage perfectly well.
It's simply a question of their lessons.

You mean get rid of
Ms. Mathews?

Yes.

You know something.

What?

I wish to make
a statement.

What is it?

I adore you.

Oh do you, darling. I'm so glad.

That's the most marvelous
idea you've had in your life.

We'll have to give him something
a little extra, I suppose.

We'll give him
3 pounds a week extra.

Then you approve?

If we got rid of Ms. Mathews
and sold the television

we'd return to
a civilized way of life.

What a pity we can't sell
Ms. Mathews.

You think
Sellers will do it.

He will if the children
and I work on him right.

Then he's bound to do it.

Darling?

I'm afraid I want
to work on you, too.

It's unlike you to warn me
but work on me.

Oh, you're so good
to me.

What are you reading?

Well, I wanted
to look something up.

What?

Henley.

Why?

If you look out that window,
you'll know why.

I always feel like reading it
at this time of the year.

Now, listen.

And it's
all the wild spring...

- Wait a minute, is this going to
take long. / - No, no it's very short.

And it's all the wild spring
in his chances and dreams.

There's a lift in the blood.

This gracious and
thirsting and aching unrest.

All life's at the bud.

And my heart,
full of April.

Is breaking my breast.

It's May the 9th.

At least that's what I'm going
to write on your check.

Who said anything
about a check?

You did: this gracious and
thirsting and aching unrest.

That can only mean
one thing, darling.

New clothes.

Oh, you are clever,
aren't you.

On the contrary, you're
the one whose clever.

Ah yes, the spring.

It's a turbulent season,
alright.

All the clatter of rebirth.

New nests and young grass.
Ooh, it's powerful stuff.

Yes, and I warned you,
my darling.

The older you get the more
powerful it becomes.

A very dangerous time.
So you look out.

Darling, I didn't mean a check.
Honestly, I didnt.

I just wanted to ask you if I could
use some of my mushroom money.

I don't allow you to accept
money from other mushrooms.

Here.

Oh, you've put with love
above your signature.

That's alright.
I've initialed it.

Oh, here they come.

Laughing and scratching.

Spreading apple cores and
nutshells all over the place.

And little bits of
sticky paper.

Now we return
to the main hall.

The 2 mantle pieces
that you see.

Are again
by Robert Adam.

The table, in the center,
is French.

And it has a fine,
inlayed, Italian marble top.

It was given
by King Louis XIV.

To a member of the family.

Now, if you follow me,
you'll continue into the west wing.

Now, this is
the state bedroom.

The 4 poster bed was
designed for the house.

And George IV
slept in it

when he was
Prince of Wales.

The fireplace is
by Robert Adam.

Now we come
to the Etruscan room.

Yes, I do indeed, Rose.

Yes, and it's so sweet of you
to have them.

Oh, Rose!

I almost forgot.

There's a hate on
against milk puddings.

Yes.

Alright, dear. Goo...

Yea...

Yea...

Yes, Ro...

Yes, Rose.
Goodbye, dear.

I'm sorry.

I seemed
to have intruded.

Yes you have,
haven't you?

Well...

I was making the tour of the house and
I got kind of absorbed in this little book.

Should have gone on
down the corridor I guess

but I made a mistake
and took the wrong turn.

I don't call entering a door
marked private making a mistake

I call that trespassing.

You gonna
prosecute me?

'Cause if you are
I shall defend the action

because there is no sign
on this door saying private.

Oh, yes there is.

Oh, I beg your pardon.

No, I beg your pardon,
Ma'am. For intruding, I mean.

- Someone must've taken it down.
- Yes, Ma'am.

Yes, and in England we
only call the Queen Ma'am.

In the United States
we try to make up for

having no royalty
by calling everyone Ma'am.

And now would you be good
enough to put it back?

Put what back?

The notice you remove from
the door. It's there on the floor.

Must've fallen down.

Rubbish,
you put it there.

I think I deserve
an explanation.

Oh it's quite simple
really.

As I had said.
I spent a

wonderful hour going
through your beautiful home.

Oh, you mean house,
don't you?

You could hardly
call a place a home

when people only have to pay
2 and 6 pence to walk all over it.

So, not content with
seeing the public rooms

you wanted to see the private
ones as well, is that it?

Let's just say I was curious to
see the people who live in them.

Well, nowadays,
I'm afraid

an Englishman's home
is not his castle,

it's his income, and it's unfair
of you to take advantage of it.

Yes, Ma'am.

I mean, no Ma'am.

I don't mean no Ma'am,

I just remember not to
say Ma'am. That's all.

Don't worry about it
anymore.

Thank you.

You are Lady Rhyall,
aren't you?

Yes.

I'm very glad to
meet you.

How do you do.

Yes, you'd sort of have
to be, wouldn't you?

Well, why?

You're perfect
type-casting.

Don't tell me you're in
the film industry.

Hardly, no.

I'm an oil man.

- Oh, you're a millionaire.
- As a matter of fact, I am.

Well.

Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

Why were you so
sure I was a millionaire?

Nearly all the Americans
I meet seem to be.

Especially the oily ones.

I hoped you'd be
impressed.

As a matter of fact, I am.
Just a little.

Have you been a millionaire
for quite some time?

I guess I have at that.

Tell me.

Why do you think
I'm type-casting?

Oh well.

Well you're cool
and elegant.

You're at ease.

And...

And what?

And very lovely.

I suppose you're a millionaire because
you insist upon value for money.

I must say you are getting your
half-crown's worth, aren't you?

I'm an American,
I say what I think.

And hesitate
before you say it.

A Frenchman would never
have hesitated.

And an Englishman?

Ooh, an Englishman
would never have said it.

You mean an Englishman would never
tell a married woman she was lovely?

Oh, no, I don't mean that. It's just
that he usually tells the husband first.

What's the point in that?

Because he knows the
husband will tell the wife.

"Do you know what old George
said to me last night, my dear?

He said he thought
you looked lovely."

I said very lovely.

And so the

wife is intrigued and

the next time she's alone with George
she sees to it that he tells her himself.

It's an oblique approach
but not a bad one, and

very effective.

So, I understand.

I don't know
your husband.

And my name is not George,
it's Charles.

What's yours?

Hilary.

Hilary?

That's a boy's name.
You don't look like a boy to me.

Charlies what?

Delacro,
D-E-L-A-C-R-O.

- Oh, sounds French.
- It is, was.

Used to be Delacroix,
C-R-O-I-X.

But...

We Americans are a simple,
straightforward people.

We see an X on the end of
a name and we pronounce it.

My grandfather thought
that Dela-Quacks

sounded like
a duck laying an egg,

so we cut it off.

The X, I mean.

He was born in France.

In Tours.

Oh now, isn't that odd.

I had a French grandfather and
he was born in Turenne,

perhaps were cousins?

Oh, I doubt that.

Your grandfather was probably a
nobleman. Mine was a clockmaker.

And now you're a millionaire,
and I'm a mushroom grower.

Oh well, there you are.
That's the way the world wags.

Well, it's...

it's a little early to
offer you a cup of tea.

Would you like a drink,
or something?

I don't really want one,
but

accepting a drink means
that I'm now your guest,

and not just an intruder,

then, by all means.

Perhaps you'd like
to help yourself.

Alright, thank you.

I imagine it's something
you're quite used to.

Helping yourself,
I mean.

Was that a crack or
a compliment?

Which do you think
it is?

In my country I'd probably
consider it a compliment.

Here it's probably
a crack.

And if you don't mind my saying
so, I think that's a pity.

I'm not really
in a position to argue.

The relative value of mushrooms
and oil in the world market today

being so unfairly
what it is.

And don't try and turn
the tables on me.

I apologize.

It's only that some of the customs of this
country I find more unusual than others.

- Having no ice in my drink of course...
- Oh blast!

- I can make you some in 2 minutes.
- I really don't mind, honestly.

I don't complain until it
actually burns my tongue.

I'm really terribly sorry.

Would you

like me to fix you
a drink?

Fix?

You sound as if you're going
to drug me or something.

Sometimes
I'm convinced that the

greatest barrier between
our two countries

is the bond of a
common language.

Could I...

May I pour you out
a drink?

No, thank you.

Why do you grow
mushrooms?

To make omelettes?

No!

To make money.

Oh, and do you?

Oh yes.
It's rather fun, isn't it?

Making money,
I mean.

Where do you live?

I've got a home on Long Island, but I'm
only there about 3 months out of the year.

Oh there you go calling
a house a home again.

Can't be much of a home if you only
spend 3 months out of every year in it.

I guess
you're right.

And you're divorced.

Yes, I am.

If I weren't, I suppose I'd have
a home instead of a house.

Why were you so sure
that I was divorced?

You're the perfect
type-casting.

I'll bet you go to psychiatrists
and you take tranquilizers

and you're frightened of ulcers
and you eat to many salads.

Lady Rhyall's report of the social
activities of the American male.

You subscribe
to the Reader's Digest

and you belong to the Racquet Club and
you worked your way through college,

or did you win
a football scholarship?

No, I worked my way through college.
As a crooner, believe it or not.

- And played halfback on
the football team. / - Correct.

- And were in the Marines
during the war. / - No.

Army Air Corps.

Finished up
a one-star General.

You're wrong again.
I was a Colonel. Anything else?

Yes, you always call your
girlfriends either sugar or honey.

Now when is it my turn
to be rude to you?

And you wouldn't feel
properly dressed unless

you had a camera
slung around your neck.

You mean like a

Englishman
and his umbrella?

That is our climate.

You don't mean to tell me that those
things are actually constructed to unroll

I though
they were just for

hailing taxis.

Oh no, we unroll them at all
sporting events and most weddings.

Sporting events.

Alright.
I'll be fair.

It's your turn now.

To be rude to me,
I mean.

Go on. Go ahead.

Well,

let me see.

I'd say you were
an only child.

Very spoiled.

You were called Hilary because your
mother and father were disappointed

that you were not
a boy.

I have 3 brothers.

Ah well,
they spoiled you.

They bullied me.

Teased me.

Tricked me out of
my pocket money,

cut my head open, and destroyed
my faith in Santa Claus.

And I simply adored them.

I was called Hilary

after someone my father hoped would leave
me something in his Will, but he never did.

And you wore braces on your teeth
and were considered the ugly duckling.

No.

But that didn't bother you because what
you really wanted was to go up to Oxford.

No, Cambridge.

And you majored in History
and finished

the Times crossword puzzle
over your breakfast.

Yes, and no.

What do you mean
yes and no.

Yes, I majored in History, and no I read
what you call the Tabloids at breakfast.

What else do you read?

Anything from
poetry to cookery books.

And being a romantic,
you prefer the poetry.

I'm not a romantic,
I'm a realist.

Why do you shake
your head?

Because of the evidence
I have before me.

What evidence
do you have before you?

Your eyes.

Very prettily said.

I thought you were
supposed to be rude to me.

Nope.

- A rip-roaring, grade-A, romantic.
- Oh, no.

You ever come up
to London?

Once a week.

Will you have lunch
with me?

No, thank you.

Why not?

Because I always have a
sandwich at my hairdressers.

What kind of sandwiches
do you like?

Smoked salmon.

If I brought some to the
hairdressers, could we have a picnic?

No, thank you.

Am I disturbing you,
my lord?

Yes, you are.

I'm sorry.

Now I've forgotten how much
143 entrance tickets are.

How much are 143
half-crowns, Sellers?

I make it 17 pounds,
17 shillings, and 6-pence.

I wonder if I might have
a word with you, my lord.

So do I.

So were both
probably right.

Now what's the matter,
Sellers?

As I told you, my lord.
I haven't any work to do.

What about your novel.
Why aren't you working on that?

I'm stuck badly.

Nearly tore the
whole thing up last night.

Now, now, you mustn't do that.
What's the trouble?

Almost certain that
the basic trouble is myself.

I'm fundamentally
happy and contented.

That's bad enough,
of course.

But on top of that,
I'm normal.

That's fatal.

You mean you prefer
to be unhappy and abnormal.

Of course.

You see,
I want to be a success.

And to be a success

One must indeed start off
as being modern.

And like yourself,
my lord, I'm not.

It means I have no feeling
of insecurity or frustration.

No despair.

And that's essential.

The first essential.

And I feel perfectly
contented,

really rather blameless,

and hardly resent
anything at all.

You are in a pickle,
aren't you?

You must of known
all that

when you gave up teaching
to become a writer?

You answered my
advertisement for a butler

when I asked you what
your qualifications were.

You said you had a degree
in science.

In spite of such a ludricrous
recommendation, I engaged you.

Partly because you told me
you wanted to write a novel.

Luckily you turned out
very well.

Now why don't you go
back to your typewriter

and take another crack at it,
Sellers. It might do you good.

You might feel better now.

I've got to look for
something.

Some way or other,
I lost my Bible.

You know by rights, you
should be in the library by now.

Enjoying Portrait of a
Burgermeister by van Dyck,

Lady Rhyall and Children by
Naysmyth circa 1800 unfinished,

Henrietta Maria, the Wife
of Charles I by Rowlandson,

and Two Mirrors
by Robert Adam.

Why don't you go and
look at them?

Because
I'd rather look at you.

I'm not on exhibition.

May I take a picture
of you?

Portrait of the 20th Century
Lady of Fashion.

By Delacro.

It's not fair. I've been
packing mushrooms.

Or shall we call it just...

Hilary.

I think subject unknown.

You know I shall want
these pictures.

To prove that the last 20
minutes actually have happened.

I may tell myself that they haven't
but the pictures will prove me wrong.

What do you mean?

You know exactly
what I mean.

No I don't.

You know what they say.
The camera cannot lie.

Neither it seems
can you.

Not very well at least.

It's not good enough for
any to avoid the truth.

Would you like me to
say the truth out loud?

So that you can deny it.
Will that make you feel better?

May I say it?

May I whisper it?

No, please no.

Why not?
Are you frightened?

Yes, I am.

But what of, darling?

Don't call me that.

Why because it's
so sudden?

You know there really ought to be some
sort of warning so that you can run away.

But there wasn't any.

Just the simple thing
of a man coming

through a door.
Now look what's happened.

It's like that game he said to her, she
said to him, and the consequences were...

What are
the consequences?

None.

I'm staying at the Savoy,
will you call me?

No.

Please?

No.

I shall stay in all the time
in case you change your mind.

I shan't.

Women do sometimes,
you know.

I shall hope. For two
whole weeks, I shall hope.

Here's your
half-crown back.

Now, then...

You get on back home
to America.

And there's no fountain here
for you to throw it in.

I shall treasure it.
Always.

I think you better go.

Turn left outside this door and go
along to the head of the staircase.

At the bottom of the
staircase turn left again.

That will take you out
to the car park.

Goodbye, Hilary.

Goodbye, Mr. Delacro.
It's been nice knowing you.

Then say goodbye nicely.

Goodbye, Charles.

Goodbye, my love.

I'm not your love.

Maybe it's not goodbye,
either.

Wait a minute. Don't move.
Now, just stay right there.

Don't move, I want to
get one more picture.

Darling, have you seen
my Bible anywhere?

I'm sorry.
I thought you were alone.

Isn't it by your bed?

No, it isn't. I want to read
through the lessons before Sunday.

Search for it
high and low.

Maddening maddening.

Perhaps Sellers
knows where it is.

You're from the press,
are you?

No, I'm not.

You've got a camera.
You've just took a photograph.

Mr. Delacro
is an American.

Oh, I see.

I thought you were from Good
Housekeeping or something.

As you probably gathered,
Mr. Delacro, this is my husband.

Oh, I'm very happy
to meet you.

How do you do.

Now that's absurd,
isn't it?

Two complete strangers meet.
One pretends it's made him happy

and the other replies
by inquiring how he does.

What's wrong with hello?

- What indeed. It's none
committal. Hello. / - Hello.

You rang, my lord?

Yes, I did, Sellers. Have you
seen my Bible anywhere?

I'm extremely sorry, my lord.
I'm afraid I've got it.

I wanted to look
something up.

First you borrow my Times,
then you pinch my Bible.

That's democracy
running amok.

I'm very sorry indeed, my lord.
I'll put it back beside your bed.

Anyway, you should have
a Bible of your own.

Well the one you're using,
is mine, my lord.

Well know, why are we all
standing about. Do sit down.

Thank you.

Tell me, are you a
very keen photographer?

I get a lot of fun
out of it, yes.

You must have taken some beauties
of the centuries at Buckingham Palace.

As a matter of fact, I have.
All in color.

Really?

The one you took right now.
Was that in color?

Yes.

You must let me
have one if it comes out.

Victor, don't be
so old-fashioned.

Nowadays, all photographs
"come out", as you call it.

You're still living in the world of
the Brownie (camera from 1900).

Are you over here for
some time, Mr. Delacro?

I'll be in Europe
all summer, I hope.

Really?

I'm sorry.
There aren't any, are there?

Are you staying nearby or are you making
a quick tour of all the stately homes?

There are 400 of them now,
you know.

Yes, half-crown ones,
I mean.

Are there really?

Yes, here we are.

- Go on, I have some more.
- Thanks, I don't smoke.

That would take you the best
part of summer, wouldn't it?

If you plan
to see them all.

Did you buy the booklet?

Yes, I did.

Mr. Delacro's just had
a week's fishing.

He's on his way back
to London.

Really? Where
were you staying?

With a friend of mine at
Fortingbridge, near Salisbury.

Josh Peters.

That's right.

I've known Josh
all my life.

Since I was 8, anyway.
We had chicken pox together.

That must be a great bond
between you.

Darling, you must remember
to keep this door closed.

Anybody could walk in.

You had good weather.
How was the fishing?

On the whole,
it was pretty fair.

There were
some big fish around,

but I'm afraid your friend, Josh
Peters, did a lot better than I did.

And so he should. He knows that
water as well as he know his own wife.

Much prefers it, too.

Oh, Victor,
don't be vulgar.

It's perfectly true,
darling.

She stands 6 foot 2
in her stocking feet,

and there's always been a certain amount
of doubt whether she could read and write.

You ought to be very tall by the end
of the month when the mayfly hatch.

Best couple of weeks
in the whole season.

As a matter of fact, I was invited.
So, possibly I shall be.

There's a very good article on the
Mayfly in last week's Angling Times.

Did you see it?

No, I didn't.

I wouldn't think so,
would I?

Where is it,
it's always there.

I suppose
Sellers has it.

Look here. Why don't you stay
and have a cup of tea with us.

That's very kind of you.

Darling, is there any
of that Dundee cake left?

Oh, yes, yes.
I think so.

Then you must stay. It's simply
delicious. Do you like Dundee cake?

Very much.

Then it's all settled, then.

Then after tea, we'll take
a walk around the garden.

I'll try and find
that Angling Times.

You think he knew?

Oh, yes. He knew.

He knew at once.

I'm afraid that's my fault. You know
you can control yourself but not that

excitement inside you, generating
something into the atmosphere.

Not through you.

Through me.

Turn to the last page in that little
book and read the last paragraph.

Present Earl and Countess have
been married for 10 years.

They have a son in heir aged 6
and a daughter aged 9.

And were very happy.

And you're not staying
for tea.

- Why not?
- Because I don't want you to.

Make some excuse
and say goodbye.

Now we've lost the Angling Times.
It's astonishing.

There it is. Now who
could've put it there?

I'll try to find
that article for you.

I was just telling
your wife

that I completely forgotten that
I have tickets to a show tonight.

So, I'm afraid I won't be able to accept
your offer of Dundee cake after all.

That is disappointing.

Can't you persuade him to
change his mind, darling?

No, she's done her very best to tempt
me, but I really must be going along.

Lady Rhyall,
goodbye.

I hope we meet again.

Goodbye,
Mr. Delacro.

Will come and see you off.
Where's your car? The car park?

Yes, it is but don't bother.
I'm sure I can find my way.

It's not bother at all.

And you mustn't get lost
again, must you?

Come on dear.

I'm sure Mr. Delacro
will forgive me.

I really do have
rather a lot to do, Victor.

You take him down,
would you?

Again goodbye, and thank you
very much for your kindness.

Where are you staying
in London?

At the Savoy.

Now that you know your way here, as
they say, you must come down again.

Thank you.

What are your
immediate plans?

As a matter of fact, there was
some doubt about those.

But I shall be staying
in London for 2 weeks anyway.

Really?

Isn't this our pleasure?

Pleasure, I hope.

Nice car you've got.

I'm trading it
on a Rolls.

That's a great compliment
if you prefer something English.

You seem to be
quite an Anglo-phile.

There are a number of things
I find attractive in this country.

And how do you rate current
Anglo-American relations?

I like to think that they haven't been
better since the War of Independence.

Course there's always room
for improvement.

If you go straight down the driveway
and turn to the left into the village.

You're on the main road
to London.

Thank you.

And there's your
Angling Times.

So long, be seeing you,
as they say in America.

Cheerio,
as you say in England.

What a nice fellow.

Didn't you think so?

Oh, I hadn't noticed really.

What did you say
his name was?

Charles.

Charles Delacro.
I think it was.

Good-looking, too.
A pity he couldn't stay for tea.

Did you say you had rather
a lot to do, darling?

Oh! Yes, yes, I have.

I must go and finish
the mushrooms.

"Thou shalt not covet
thy neighbors wife,

nor his ox, nor his ass,
nor anything that is h..."

That's the wrong chapter,
isn't it?

Darling, I'm going to eat
in pajamas. Do you mind?

Darling, do you mind
if I dine in pajamas?

No, of course not.

When?

When?
What do you mean when?

When what?

When the wind changes.

What did you say?

I asked if you mind
if I dined in a suit of armor.

What's the matter
with you tonight?

I don't know. There's something
wrong with me, I suppose.

The jealous husband who killed in defense
of home and marriage was acquitted today.

And the case has now ended to the
unanimous approval of press and public.

Outside the courtroom,

husband and wife
were fondly reunited.

Local news.

The jealous husband who killed in defense
of home and marriage was acquitted today.

Look, Mommy.
Look!

Why didn't you tell me?

Tell you what,
darling?

That I got
odd shoes on.

Oh, I though you knew.

What do you mean
you thought I knew?

I thought you were reading
one of those dress articles.

You know, why not be different?
If you can't be chic, be odd.

That's right, dear,
tuck in the white one.

Have you finished with it,
my darling?

There you are.

This is what they call
a quiet weekend at home.

I want a London call,
please.

Ranos, good morning.

Hold on one moment, Lady Rhyall,
I'll just check to make sure.

Yes, Monsieur René can take
you at nine tomorrow morning.

Nine o'clock?

Oh yes, that
would be perfect.

Yes, thank you very much,
goodbye.

Hello.

Hello?

Hello, this is Victor Rhyall here.
Who's speaking?

Hello.

I was just down
to the hairdressers.

They can only take me at
9 o'clock in the morning.

That's quite early,
isn't it?

What will you do?
Go up to London this evening?

Yes, I think I'll have to.

I had a feeling
you'd be going into London.

Why?

I don't know, I thought it was
about time your hair needed doing.

What will you do,
stay with Hattie?

Yes, I suppose so.

Hadn't you better call her?
Let her know?

Yes, I suppose
I'd better.

There's a train at 5:12
this afternoon,

or you could catch
the 6:15.

London call, please.

Number 2656.

Perhaps you'd like to dine early
and go off later.

No, the 5:12 will be fine.

Hattie's line is sure
to be busy. It always is.

Hold the line!

Hattie, darling.
What are you doing?

I'll call you right back.

Who's calling?

Hil, darling.

I've just flooded the bathroom floor.
I'll call you back in 10 minutes.

Are you at home?

Ah, Mr. Delacro, I've made inquiries
about the latest hairdressers.

There's a page boy
on his way up to you now

with the names, addresses, and
telephone numbers of the best ones.

Can you tell me if Lady Rhyall
has an appointment with you?

I'm sorry, sir. Lady Rhyall
is not a client of ours.

No, sir.
Quite sure, sir.

Yes, sir. She has.

London train.

There you are,
darling.

And here's your ticket.

Don't lose it and don't speak
to strangers.

Enjoy yourself and
give my love to Hattie.

I'll be back tomorrow
evening.

I'll expect you
when I see you.

Stand away, please.

Stand away.

I beg your pardon. Didn't you
have a French grandfather?

Oh, hello Mr. Delacro.

How long are you going
to be in London?

I don't know.

Long enough to
have lunch with me.

I don't know.

Good.
Where should we go?

I don't know.

You just don't know
anything at all, do you?

- I'm afraid I...
- Oh, no!

There are many surprises.

- I'm terribly sorry, it's my fault.
- So sorry.

Better take you out and
get you a collar and a leash.

I wonder if I ever
would have phoned you.

Now I'll never know.
Will I?

If you hadn't behaved like an amateur
detective, you would've found out.

You know,
I think we ought to go.

May I have the bill,
please?

Will you marry me?

No.

Will you have dinner
with me?

Yes.

What a happy day.

Thank you, Charles.

And what shall we do
tomorrow?

It doesn't really matter,
does it?

We've been surrounded
by people all day long.

Let's try to avoid them
from now on.

Tell Mrs. Bankshop that if she ever gives
me mushrooms to eat again, out she goes.

Very good, my lord.

Dreadful things. I scrubbed my hands
all night and couldn't get rid of the smell.

Even her ladyship
wears gloves, my lord.

Will she be returning
this evening?

I don't think so, Sellers.
I'll just dine on the tray.

That's such a
maddening bird.

It's a popular expression,
isn't it, my lord?

He's gone cuckoo.

Who's gone cuckoo?

No one, my lord.

You said it was
a maddening bird.

And I mentioned that's how
the expression originated.

Oh, I see.

His call always sounds to me like
a sort of kreed-a-kur, my lord.

Kreed-a-kur?

Is that from your novel?

We all applaud to him
so much because he gives

such a wonderful welcome
when he first arrives.

Because he gives such a wonderful
welcome when he first arrives,

articles about him and letters
in the newspapers and so on.

But from then on,
everybody simply hates him.

No, I don't blame them.

Having a failure after a good press
must be very discouraging.

Perhaps I'm looking at it more from
a novelist's point of view, my lord.

That's the latter. Now,
I want a drink and a bath.

How's the time?
Are you alright for the train?

Nearly a quarter to 6.

Better hurry and get yourself a
glass, too, for you on the way back.

Take it out of the
mushroom account.

Hello, Hattie.
What are you doing here?

Hello, darling.
How are you?

Splendid, thanks.
How are you?

Never better.

Pleased to see me?

Not very.

Surprised to see me?

Not very.

And I payed half a crown to
come in halfway specially.

No you didn't.

I call it a swindle.
What do you mean I didn't?

You came in that way

because you knew that just about a week
ago today someone else came in that way,

and you thought what fun
it would be to do the same.

Darling, I love you more
and more everytime I see you.

That's good.

But you're only
half right.

If I come in
the normal way you

would have told Sellers to say that you
had gone out or abroad or something.

That's right.

Such a pity.

Our love for each other is
founded on mutual distrust.

Help me out with my coat.
Would you, darling?

What? With my foot?

No.

What makes you think
I love you?

You did once upon a time.
I think you even put it in writing.

Well, then. Here, do
something with that.

I suppose
you want a drink.

I'd like some champagne,
please.

I haven't any, and if I had
some I doubt if I'd give it to you.

I know how you must be feeling,
darling. But you mustn't get bitter.

Whiskey or gin? Or there's some
cooking sherry in the kitchen?

Gin, please.

Tonic, soda, ginger ale,
or water?

Pink!

And would you mind
burning the Angustura?

Well, no I can't make those things.
Besides, I don't have any matches.

Oh, in my bag.

Ooh, wait a minute.

Here.

Savoy?

Have you been there
recently?

Not recently. No.

- I expect you got them from Hilary.
- I expect I did.

You've seen much of her?

No. Considering she's been staying
with me. Not very much. No.

I had the other half of a grapefruit
with her yesterday morning.

I expect you to send her love
but she didn't know I was coming.

Do you know it only took me 1 hour
and 20 minutes, door to door?

On your broomstick?

Here.

Oh. Come on.
Give me those things.

Well, good luck.

You say that as if you think
I'm going to need it.

Don't we all?

Can't do a blasted thing
without good luck.

You need it from the moment
you get out in the morning,

til the moment you
get back in at night.

Particularly when you
get back in again at night.

You are a wanton.

What else?

Everything's luck.

Look at the lousy luck I had the day
I introduced you to Hilary at the races.

Won the daily double
and lost you.

And if you'd married me
instead of Hilary,

I wouldn't have married that
horrid, little man I did marry.

Or spend all that money
divorcing him.

Wasn't much of
a daily double, either.

Why did you
come down here?

Well, two reasons.

What are they?

Oh, firstly
I'm very fond of Hilary.

Secondly?

I'm very fond of you.

And I thought you might
need cheering up, my sweet.

Now come on, Hattie.
Be honest.

- What was the real reason?
- I do hate it when people say be honest.

It puts one at such
a disadvantage.

And you must know
as well as I do

that saying it to me
is a sheer waste of breath.

It was curiousity,
wasn't it?

You wanted to see how I reacted to my
wife falling in love with another man.

He's not just another man,
darling. He's a millionaire!

I'll tell you how I've reacted.
I'm very annoyed.

I'm very annoyed,

very miserable,

very at a lose,
and

very lonely.

WeWhy didn't you try and
stop her from going to London?

Because I'm not a fool.

I must confess. I never
thought you were before but...

Wouldn't it have been safer
if she hadn't seen him again?

From my point of view, it was
essential that she did see him again.

If she hadn't, I would have been the
obstacle preventing her from seeing him.

And that would have
damaged our relationship.

Even at the risk of encouraging theirs,
that's the last thing I want to do.

Have you met
Mr. Delacro?

Now, that man's going to crop up
into conversation quite a lot, you know.

Don't you think we ought
to call him Charles?

Is that usual?

Nowadays surely
it must be.

Tell me,
have you met him?

Darling, I haven't met an
unmarried millionaire for years.

I'd be so over excited if I did.
I'd probably curtsy.

Did Hilary talk to you
much about him?

The little I've seen of her.
All the time.

Except when
she was talking about you.

What did she say?

She loved you.

But was in love
with him.

Madly.

Yes, there's a difference,
isn't there?

I always knew no good would come of
my opening this house to the public.

Has she been with him
all the time?

I imagine so.

Astonishing, isn't it?

Here's a reasonable,
decent sort of man

who'd no more think of stealing my cuff
links than he would of taking my umbrella.

Yet he can pay
half a crown at the door,

walk into my house, and without
disturbing his conscience in anyway,

come up with the endeavor
to steal my wife.

By the same token, Hilary
wouldn't cheat at cards.

There's no honor
where there's sex.

You are happy to say.

Look up.

If you give me some gin,
I'll give you some advice.

I don't believe in something
for nothing.

Alright, you want all that
silly bonfire business again?

- Yes, please. / - I knew you would.
What a nuisance you are.

Alright, go on, go on,
give me some advice.

Like most men who've had
success with women,

you flatter yourself
you understand them.

Don't be a mug, my sweet.
You haven't a clue.

Hilary's paramount
emotion at the...

What a lovely word, paramount.
I don't think I've ever used it before.

- Then don't do it again.
- Her paramount emotion at the moment,

is neither her passion for
Charles nor her love for you.

It's a feeling of complete bewilderment
that her values, her standards, her

whole existence could be
cockeyed in half an hour.

When she gets home, remember
that and forget everything else.

Oh, naturally.
Clap hands and jump for joy.

If you want her back,
that's the way to play it.

That bird is a little
too emphatic, isn't he?

What did Shakespeare? A cuckoo
then on every tree mocks married men.

Yes, yes, yes.
Here.

Must we go through that
again.

Wait a minute.

Here, give me a shoe.

It's the only way.

Have you been faithful
to Hilary all these years?

Yes, I have.

That's beside the point.

It's not beside the point,
it is the point.

A very sharp one, too.

What's sauce for the goose.
Remember?

- Rubbish the whole fundamental...
- Don't sit on my hat, darling.

I know, I know.

The fundamental difference
between men and women,

is that what's sauce for the goose
is not sauce for the gander.

That's why women wear
wedding rings and men don't.

First proud,
now arrogant.

And exceedingly
immoral.

Oh, come, come.

If Hilary's prepared to give up Charles,
I think you should be bloody grateful.

And she's seems to me pretty
determined on coming back here,

and continuing to be the good,
little wife and perfect mother.

With the aching heart.

Yes, but he's giving her a mink coat
which should stop the ache a little bit.

He's done what?

He's given her
a mink coat.

Blast him.
I hope he rots in Hell.

Oh, it's a wild mink.
An absolute beauty.

And how's the good, little mother
going to explain that away?

Poor sweet. She was
rather worried about that.

But I expect
she'll think of something.

I wanted to give her a mink coat
ever since we were married.

And by next Christmas,
I could've just about done it.

I ought to shoot him.

I do think we should try
and avoid bloodshed, darling.

It's a little old-fashioned.

It's time it
was brought up to date.

How dare she come back here
flaunting a mink coat

and pretending she's paid for it with
money she won betting on the horses.

I'm sure she'll think of
something better than that.

And you couldn't expect her not
to take it. Could you, darling?

Not wild mink, now,
could you?

I mean apart from it being
insured for 3,000 pounds.

3,000 pounds?

Yes dear, 3,000 pounds.

I'm sure it's got a
sentimental value as well.

I take it you're staying
the weekend.

Did you bring a bag?

When you're addressing me,
I prefer the word suitcase.

Now.

What are you going to do with
me until Hilary arrives tomorrow?

Play Scrabble?

Then you can spell,
can you?

If that's what you like.

No, it's not.

I'd like a good dinner with a
bottle of something very expensive,

and preferably fizzy.

Then I'll take you over the the Horse
& Groom. It's not far and it's not bad.

How delicious.

I shall enjoy having a gorgeous
dinner with you again, darling.

Will there be soft lighting,
do you think?

Now Hattie,
don't be outrageous.

There's that bird again.

You know, I think it's flown here
straight from the Savoy.

Just get your silly hat
and come on, let's change.

Get my shoes,
will you, darling?

Anyway, the fact remains that my
world goes round only because of her.

She's the focal point of
my existence.

Everything I've done
or accomplished.

There's nothing much, I dare say, that
hasn't been for her or on account of her.

We've been friends
as well as lovers.

And if I sing in my bath, it's because I
know I'm going to have breakfast with her.

Without her I don't say
I would be lost, but

it certainly wouldn't be very clear
in my mind which way to turn.

Well, tell her that.
Discuss the situation.

Talk the whole thing over.

It's fatal, Hattie.

The spoken word, like the last
opportunity, doesn't come back.

When a situation like
this is admitted out loud,

it means that it's been accepted, and if
it's accepted it's got to be discussed.

Everytime you discuss it,
you get further apart

until in the end you're so far away
from eachother you have to shout.

And the whole thing
becomes hopeless.

She knows
that as well as I do.

Well then, do what I say. Just be
gentle and kind and understanding.

Thank you, Hattie.
I will if I can.

But first,

I've got to get Mister

bloody Delacro out of her heart, out
of her mind, and out of the country.

And how do you
propose to do that?

I don't know.
I wish I did.

All I know is that she'll turn up
tomorrow as bright as a button.

With her suitcase in one hand
and her sacrifice in the other.

And she'll be coming back
not for me,

But because of
the children.

As far as I'm concerned
that's insufficient reason.

I want her back because
she wants to come back to me.

Or not at all?

Yes, I think that's right.

Or not at all.

That's selfish, short-sighted,
and very stupid.

Perhaps, but
I know my limitations.

I couldn't live with Hilary watching
her longing for someone else.

I couldn't face the humiliation
of the dressing room.

I couldn't stand a polite,

second best,
forlorn sort of life,

patiently waiting
the dawn of indifference.

Not for me, Hattie. Thank you
very much. Not for me.

Besides...

Besides what?

She might come back here,

eat her heart out for a while,
and then run off again.

That well-known
little note

that she couldn't stand it any longer
and any ticket to romantic places and...

The other man.

There's no guarantee
that won't happen.

Then you'd marry me at last
and we'd live happily ever after.

No, if I'm going to
preserve our marriage,

and I don't mean a patched up
bargain for the sake of the children,

then something's got
to be done.

And very soon.

Oh, come on, let's go.

Waiter!

Give me the bill,
would you please?

You're not going to
drink that?

Apparently not.

I have a horrible feeling you're
plotting something not to do with me.

- Which couldn't be more disappointing.
- I've just got a horrible feeling.

I'm thirsty.

Make one of those pink things
and burn the angusdura.

Yeah, well I haven't got
any matches.

Here.

Temple Bar 4343,
please.

In London.

But that's the Savoy!

Easy number
to remember, isn't it?

What are you going
to do?

I'm going to talk to
Charles Delacro if I can.

If he's not there
I'll leave a message.

What sort of message.

An invitation.

Hello?

Is that the Savoy?

I want to speak to
Charles Delacro, please.

No, no.

Da.

D. Delacro. That's right.

This is Rock Hudson
calling.

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

That's the only way you can get service
out of telephone operators these days.

Hello!

Is this Charles Delacro.

Yes. Speaking.
Who's there?

This is Victor Rhyall.

Victor.

How are you?

Well, I'm just fine.

I'm must apologize for
giving you such short notice,

but my wife and I wondered if you
cared to come down for the weekend.

How dare he!

Why, yes. I think
I'd like that very much.

You must be out of
your mind!

Shutup and go
and sit down.

Oh, that's splendid.
My wife would be delighted.

It'll be very quiet
I'm afraid.

Just ourselves and a rather boring
friend of Hilary's who drinks gin all day.

What was that?

It must've been some
interference on the line.

Yes. I'll look forward
to that.

There is interference
on the line.

It's an electrical
disturbance, I guess.

Now, bring a rod and
we'll frighten some fish.

Alright.

About what time?

Oh, any time after lunch.

Fine.

Oh, just a second.
I've just had a thought.

My wife is coming down
tomorrow.

Has she been away?

Yes, she's been in London
all week.

Has she really?

- I wonder if you'd be very kind and
give her a lift. / - Sure. I'd be delighted.

- That is good of you.
- Not at all. I welcome it.

Then may I tell her to get
in touch with you at the Savoy?

I wish you would.

It would be
a pleasure.

- Until tomorrow.
- Until tomorrow.

You hurt me just then.

- He must be barking mad!
- You must be barking mad!

- He's not barking mad.
- I'm not barking mad.

- That gives him another 48 h with her.
- That gives me another 48 h with you.

- He thought of that before he accepted.
- I thought of that before I accepted.

I think the whole thing
will be rather fun.

The whole thing's going to be
absolute torture.

Hello! How are you?

Never better. Thank you.

I see you've gotten in touch
with each other. How nice.

I've missed you terribly,
darling.

But your letters
were such a help.

You know she wrote me
twice a day?

Did she really?

Oh, Hattie.

Hattie, this is
Charles Delacro.

No one calls her anything
but Hattie except at her bank

where they call her
Mrs. Durant.

How do you do
Mr. Delacro?

- I've heard such a lot about you.
- How do you do?

Oh, Hil, darling.

Hello, darling.

- Were you warm enough without your
coat, dear? / - Yes. Thank you, darling.

Well, come on in.

This is the stage door so you won't have
to pay a half-crown at the box office.

If were having traffic then
we'd better get cracking.

- How long will it take you to change?
- About 5 minutes.

Good. I'll show you
to your room.

Oh, Sellers. Bring Mr. Delacro's
bags as soon as you can.

Yes, my lord.

Oh, and Sellers.

Tell Mrs. Bankshop to help open a few
of the bugged rooms for this evening.

Very good, my lord.

Darling, I'd thought we'd splurge
and dress up for our visitor tonight.

We can afford that once
in a while, can't we?

Yes!

Cuckoo!

Well, come on.

Nice of you to invite me
down here this weekend.

I'm enjoying it.

Oh, I'm glad you like it.

Beautiful place you have.
I envy you.

- You ought to have one of your own.
- Yeah, I've been thinking about it.

You fish here often?

Yes. I know these waters
as well as I know my own wife.

I seem to
have said that before.

Yes, you did
About Josh Peters.

You said he
much prefered it, too.

Oh, yes, yes. but his wife's
so tall, and rather stupid.

What kind of line
do you use?

It's an American line.
I've been using it all my life.

Had good luck with it?

Not too bad. Of course,
one gets away now and then.

I hate that.

Well, now.

The winds a little tricky
on this side.

So I suggest, as you're the guest,
you'd better fish over there.

Oh, thanks.

You're perfectly
welcome.

Bear to your left.

How's that?

I said, bear to your left.

About here?

That's right.

Right?

Whoop!

Oh, that's very funny.

If I'd known he was going to do
that I'd put a hole in his waders.

What's that?

I said, I hope you don't
have a hole in your waders!

Oh, no.

- Dry as a bone.
- I beg your pardon?

I said,
dry as a bone!

He's not only stupid,
he's deaf.

He's not only deaf,
he's stupid.

Oh, not there.

Mind the deep hole.

Sorry.
I can't hear you.

I said, mind the deep...! Just
a moment, I'll come over there.

What were you tring
to tell me?

Mind the deep hole.

What on Earth do you imagine
they're talking about?

- Fish.
- Oh, not still.

From a woman's
point of view,

the amount of time that men spend
talking about fish is quite humiliating.

But perhaps on this occassion,
we should be rather grateful.

I still don't think we should've
left them alone together.

Nonsense, darling. They're
behaving like positive buddies.

I don't trust Victor
when he's genial.

I don't trust him,
period.

He's a brute, isn't he?

By the way,

What did you and Victor do
last night?

We had a delicious dinner at the Horse
& Groom, and then we came back here

and played Scrabble!

I never quite trust you with Victor.
Why didn't you dine here?

Victor said
he felt like going out.

Oh he did?

What time did you go
to bed?

About half past 12,
I think.

Did Victor drink much?

Very little.

As far as I remember.

But you can't play Scrabble!
Not with grown-up people.

I know
how to cheat at it.

Where did you dine,
darling?

The White Tower.

Oh, how gorgeous!

And what time
did you go to bed?

Nice and early.

That was a splendid one
of Victor's, wasn't it?

What was?

His last turn before dinner
when you just put

fidelity, and he added
I-N in front of it.

I think that put us in the lead,
didn't it? Where's the score?

Stupid board game!

Yes darling. I quite agree.
Madly boring.

Come on.
Give me a hand.

We can say that Sellers knocked it
over putting down the coffee plate.

I think it was simply
wonderful

of you not to have kicked it all over
the room when you actually did it.

Tremendous self-control it must have
been. I was really filled with admiration.

Is that
why you giggled?

That was pure hysteria.

You must admit it was quite a moment,
though. I didn't dare look at Charles.

But what are we going to do
with the rest of the Evening?

Unless there's a panel of bachelors
discussing marriage and divorce.

I suppose it would be less
embarassing to watch television.

There you are,
my lady.

I beg your pardon, I couldn't understand
where the voices were coming from.

- Just put the coffee there, would you
please, Sellers? / - Very good, my lady.

Let me help you pick up
these pieces, my lady.

Thank you. Yes, there are
quite a few there, I think.

What are you laughing at?

I beg your pardon, my lady.
I really couldn't help it.

These children,
they were playing bears.

Who's been eating
my porridge?

And who's
been sleeping in my...

That'll be all.
Thank you, Sellers.

Very good.

- Oh, Sellers.
- My lady?

Did you notice a very battered looking
old suitcase in Mr. Delacro's car?

Yes, I put it in his room.

Oh, no, no.
That one's mine.

Oh, then I'll change it over.
Have you got the key for it?

No, I haven't. But don't worry
about that. Just put it in my room.

Very well, my lady.

I'm sorry I was bitty
just now.

I'm sorry, too.

Oh, Hattie.

What a

thing to happen,
isn't it?

Did Victor talk to you
about Charles last night?

Oh, yes.
Of course he did.

He was rather rude
about him.

Why?
What did he say?

He said,

in order to commemorate
the number of liberties

Americans have taken in this
country in the last 15 years,

it was high time that England had
a Statue of Liberty of their own.

Or did he say Libertine?

I can't remember.

Dreary, pompous
Englishman.

What else did he say? He must've
said something else. Wasn't he upset?

Oh, yes.
He was upset.

I asked him if he thought
there was a possibility

of you running away
with Charles.

And what did he say?

He said, he thought
it would be a pity.

A pity!

What does he mean
a pity?

And that if you did,

he wouldn't accept responsibility for
either the mushrooms or Ms. Mathews.

I must warn you
about our coffee.

You can't tell me anything
about English coffee, man.

I know the lot.

But you haven't
tasted ours yet.

We flavor it with Vinseed oil
and serve it at room temperature.

Now quick, before they come back.
Tell me what you've done about the mink.

You can't possibly give that up. That would
be a heartbreak you could never mend.

Where is it?

It's here.

You didn't breath a word of
about that to Victor, did you?

Oh, darling.
What do you take me for?

- It's here, is it?
- Yes, I brought it down.

What are you going
to say?

I've had rather
a brain wave. And I...

So I went to Harrod's
and I bought a sponge.

Hattie dear, let me
give you a little kibble.

Or did you finish the bottle
after lunch?

Now don't talk like that!

You were so blinking mean with it, I've
decided to buy you some bigger glasses.

What you all been
talkin' about. Fish?

No. Women.

- Oh, fancy that.
- No, no.

Actually we were talking
about ballerinas

which is not quite
the same thing, Mrs. Durant.

Would you do me
a great favor?

Certainly.

Never call me
by that name.

Why not?

Here you are
Mrs. Durant.

The unexpended portion
of a day's ration.

And what for you Hilary? Similar?
As they say in all the smart bars?

Well, you haven't got
anything else. Have you?

Please not in front of
the millionaire.

As a matter of fact,
I've a very good brandy,

but I'm saving that
for Charles and myself.

I thought you were going
to save it for Christmas.

I'll have a brandy,
please.

Brandy, Charles?

Yes, thank you.

- Here's your coffee, darling.
- Thank you, darling.

No, not you.

I beg your pardon,
I thought you said "darling".

So I did.

- Here's yours.
- Thank you, darling.

That is confusing, isn't it?
The next time I shall bring my own.

- Victor?
- Yes, dear?

Your coffee.

Thank you, darling.

What does that mean?

"Nothing is said that
hasn't been said before."

I just said, "thank you,
darling" three times.

Oh, how dull.

In medical books, they always use
Latin for the interesting bits.

Oh, Hattie!

But they do, darling.

Don't you remember in the one
I borrowed from you it was all...

All very frustrating
for you.

Oh, thank you, dear.

Aren't we going
to finish our Scrabble?

I'm terribly sorry.

I'm afraid Sellers knocked the whole
thing over when he brought in the coffee.

Thank you, darling.

What are you
thanking me for?

It's a habit I've acquired.
Each time you say, "coffee" I say,

"thank you, darling".

Here are two more
Scrabble letters.

There's O and K.

OK.

Must be a good omen,
hmm?

Oh, yes.
Of course it must be.

Try them the other way
around.

KO.

Knocked out.

I suppose
that's an omen, too.

Never can tell,
can you?

You mean...

Which way around things
are going to happen?

Yes, or what to put first
and what to place second.

If we knew that,
we'd all be a lot happier.

Don't you agree?

Yes, but as a general rule I'd say place
yourself first, the other fella second.

Supposing the other fella
disputes your arrangement?

Then you enter into
competition.

And the race is to the swift and
the battle to the strong, right?

- Sure.
- I'm not at all sure.

In theory,
I must disagree with you.

However, in practice
you may well be right.

A little primitive, but
what's wrong with that?

- What's primitive?
- You are, dear.

Oh, am I really?

Or was he being insulting?

On the contrary. I'd say
he was paying a compliment.

He says that
because he is, too.

Is Hilary primitive?

I'm beginning to wonder.

And what are you?

The other day Sellers
told me I was traditional.

What's traditional?

Now here you are,
Charles.

A man after
your own heart.

No? Who was he?

He was my great great
grandfather.

- Say, he's got a green coat on
just like yours. / - Yes, that's right.

That's traditional.

He ruined two men
gambling one evening.

And killed another one at
5 o'clock the following morning.

He was a fellow of a
royal society, too.

Must have been
quite a fella.

Why'd he kill the third guy?
Didn't pay up?

No, no, no. It was
an affair of the heart.

Yes, a woman.

Gentlemen didn't fight
over men in those days.

How'd it happen?

He discovered that
his wife

was about to run away with a wealthy,
young land owner from South Carolina.

Beautiful country there,
I believe, but

you're not from the South
yourself, are you?

No, I'm from
New York State.

Did they hang him?

No, it was a duel. Pistols.
Somewhere near Shepherd's Bush.

What happened
to the lady?

- My great great grandmother?
- Yeah.

She had several
more children.

Mostly by my great great
grandfather.

And they lived happily
ever after.

What a fascinating story. Why
have you never told it to me before?

Perhaps I shouldn't have
even mentioned it now, darling.

You know I've
always done my best to

shield you from
the unpleasant side of life.

- There she is. Lovely, don't you think?
- Yes, she was.

Her hair.

Let me see that.

That's my great great
grandmother!

- No, darling, it isn't.
- Yes, of course it is.

No, of course
it isn't dear.

Wait a minute, we sold your
grandmother to go to Spain last year.

What are you ta...

I was only saying that if the morals
of this century get any worse,

it might be a good thing
to reintroduce dueling.

Make it legal,
I mean.

How would that help?

It cut the divorce rate
in half.

It might cut the husbands in half, too.
Then what would we do for alimony.

Oh. Hattie, you'd be a widow
and you'd get the lot.

Then it would be
a marvelous idea.

-Come on. Let's go on upstairs.
-Can't you do something about that, Victor?

I've been wondering.
Come alone Charles.

Since the government
insists that nuclear weapons

are a deterrent
against war.

Surely they'd accept dueling
as a deterrent against divorce.

Might get a bill through the house someday
on that basis. Course it would all depend.

On whether the big
shots were good shots.

- More kibble, Hattie
- Yes, please.

There.

I did warn you about Hattie.
Didn't I Charles?

Well, darling. You haven't told me
what you did in London this week.

Did you have fun.

Yes.
Thank you.

What did you do?

You know. The usual things
one does in London.

That reminds me.

Of what?

Now Victor, I do hope you're not going
to be stuffy and say I've been dishonest.

Stuffy? Now what
have you done?

Well...

One morning,

I found a cloak room tacket
for a tixie in a suitcase.

Oh, no! I mean I...

I found a cloak room ticket
for a suitcase in a taxi.

Oh, that's what you did.

Yes, I did.

So you gave it
to the driver.

No Victor.
I'm afraid I didn't.

You don't mean to tell me
you went and got it out.

Yes, I did.

But that's disgraceful.

Where was it?

Victoria's Station, Victor. And
I thought that was a sort of omen.

It had been there
for absolutely ages,

and there was a great
deal of money to pay on it.

So I thought perhaps the person
has died or something.

Or it might have been stolen property.
The thief got windy and dumped it.

Yes.

Good lord, there wasn't
a body in it was there?

I don't know.

What do you mean,
you don't know?

I haven't opened it yet. It was
locked and none of my keys would fit.

Charles, do you hear this
astounding confession?

I'm trying not to.

That's very good of you.
I appreciate it.

Hilary,
I'm shocked at you.

Short-changing the public by selling
old mushrooms as fresh, that's one thing,

but you've never done
anything criminal before.

Oh, Victor,
it wasn't criminal.

I found the ticket.
I didn't steal it.

Yes, but the fact remains. You're in
possession of someone else's property.

What should we do?

Obviously we ought to
return it.

But we can't do that without
getting involved with officials.

Possibly even the police
and the newspapers.

What's the point
of returning it now?

You'd never get it back
to the proper owner.

Anyway, you shouldn't have been
so silly as to lose the ticket.

Yes, it would only end up
as lost property, I suppose.

So, perhaps the first thing to do
is to find out what's inside it.

Let's hope
it's nothing of value.

Where is it, darling?

It's in my room.

I'll get my keys and see if they're any
good. I'll tell Sellers to bring it here.

I must say, I think
it's all rather exciting.

Oh really, Hattie.

You talk as if Hilary had
one a bet on the horses.

- Oh, it the mink. Of course!
- Yes.

Darling, what a perfectly
brilliant idea.

Oh, Hattie, I feel so awful. I am
so absolutely hopeless at lying.

You're not doing
so badly, dear.

Hattie.

Why don't you run along
and powder your nose.

I want to talk to Hilary
for a moment,

and if you see Victor, you just
keep him away as long as possible.

You mustn't be upset,
my sweet.

It's all so beautifully romantic,
and I have no part in it.

It makes me feel like the
president of the Lonely Hearts.

Come here.

No, and you stay
where you are.

Why?

Cause I can't think clearly
when I'm near you.

What do you mean?

You know exactly
what I mean.

You remember
saying that to me?

In there?

I just can't stand this
anymore.

I know it's my fault. I insisted
on coming down here, but...

Well, now I know
that he knows.

And he knows
that I know he knows.

Hattie knows.

We all know we all know.

like a top secret that everybody
knows. Like the day before D-day.

Nuts to
the top secret.

What do you mean?

I'm going to talk
to him.

Oh no! You can't!
You promised!

I'm thinking of
breaking that promise.

Oh Charles, darling.
You must think of me.

-I haven't thought of anything else sin...
-Now stay where you are.

Now listen.

Victor knows all about it.
Doesn't he?

Does he seems to be upset?
Does he seem to be jealous?

Does he seem to care,
one way or another?

Well...

Of course he cares. He's just not
a very jealous person. That's all.

In his position I think he should
be jealous. I just don't think he cares.

Yes, he ought to be a little
bit jealous. Shouldn't he?

You know,

Hattie asked him if he considered the
possibility of my running away with you,

and do you know
what he said?

What?

He said, he thought
it would be a pity.

A pity!

There you are.

You suppose for one moment
if he actually cared

that he would've invited me
down here? Now really.

Not unless
he's a lunatic.

Oh no, he's not
a lunatic.

Maybe it's just
his way of saying,

Alright,
I understand.

You don't have to

talk about it or
discuss it.

Just as long as
you stay here with me.

That's all.

You honestly believe that?

Darling, I'm in such a muddle
I don't know what I believe.

I know what I believe.

I believe that you love me
and that I can make you happy.

Without upsetting Victor too much,
you could get a divorce and marry me.

Perhaps you don't understand
Englishmen very well.

Well, who does?

Englishwomen.

Darling,
were wasting time.

Then kiss me.

- From here? How can I?
- Then come round here.

- But you just told me not to.
- I've changed my mind.

Alright then, does that mean
you'll marry me?

No, no, Charles.
Charles, don't you see?

The moment you go to bed,
I'm going to talk to him.

He may guess what
you're going to say and

try to head you have
by going to bed himself.

I can fix it so that he can't,
you know.

If everything works out
the way I think it will,

I'll stay here tonight and we can
all discuss it tomorrow morning.

If Victor insists
on being difficult,

I'll just go back
to London,

cancel all my plans, and arrange
to stay in England all Summer long.

Oh, you're so
beautifully determined.

No wonder
I'm in love with you.

Oh Hilary, I could give you
such a lovely life.

I was having quite a lovely life
until you came into it.

I think I'm going out
of my mind.

Wouldn't that be
wonderful?

Just to go out of your mind
and walk away.

And somebody'd park it
for me,

and when you've gone away and
I'm in a fit state to drive it again,

I could go and
collect it.

Come inside. Sellers
is bringing it here now.

One of these
should open it.

Yes. Hattie says
she's tired, darling.

I expect you are, too,
after your week in London.

It wasn't a week.
It was four days.

Well Charles, if they're going
to leave us and go to bed.

I thought you and I would
have a game of billiards.

It's early, yet,
would you like to?

Yes, I would, but I'm afraid
I don't know your English game.

I'm not sure how to very clearly,
but we can make it up as we go along.

Perhaps Charles doesn't want to play.
Why don't we all make it an early night.

No, no,
I'd like to play.

Sure.

Thank you, Sellers.
Bring it here.

That looks heavy,
doesn't it?

Heavy?

Try one of those, Sellers.

You couldn't really get a body
in there, could you?

Not unless it was cut up,
of course.

- Now Hattie, don't be disgusting.
- Alright then, dismembered.

That's even worse.

I expect that's why they
always use it in the newspapers.

Sellers! Try it over there,
it might be easier for you.

Before we open it. In case it's something
gorgeous, who's going to get it.

Shouldn't we draw lots
or something?

Finder's Keeper's.

Maybe it's like
Pandora's box.

You shouldn't open it
at all.

Ah, got it!

Finder's Keeper's,
darling.

Or perhaps we should
draw lots for it.

Let me see.
Anything else, Sellers?

You don't call that side
that spin, do you?

You call it putting English
on the ball.

I suppose Englishmen
deserve it. Don't you agree?

No, I'm not so sure
that I do.

We don't seem to see
eye-to-eye about anything.

The only reason you refuse
to fight a duel with me,

is because you think
it's too unconventional.

It's not you know.

It's been accepted in every other
century since David and Goliath.

Yes, but in the twentieth century, it's
not only unconventional, it's unheard of.

Nonsense,
it goes on all the time.

What's the Cold War
but a duel.

The two-party
political system.

Competitive enterprise,
rival firms, human relationships,

the Davis Cup, they're
all forms of dueling.

Even fishing.

A 20 pound salmon on
the end of your line,

and you know as well as I do
you're in for a hell of a duel.

But you're asking me to accept to
kill you. I find that monstruous.

You're asking me to
give up my wife to you.

I find that monstruous.

And I refuse to discuss
or consider a divorce,

until you've accepted my challenge
and fought a duel with me.

Why?

Because I'm prepared
to defend my...

Don't worry, I'm not
going to say my honor.

Something to me more
important than that.

I'm prepared to defend
my home

and my happiness.

And the duel, although
admittedly a little dramatic,

seems to be the most satisfactory
and decisive way of setting about it.

Some more brandy?

No, thanks.

Well...

Supposing I just refuse.

Then it would be known
to Hilary that I challenged you,

and leave it to you to explain
why you didn't accept.

I expect she'll be hurt

you weren't prepared to
fight for her.

Is that a threat or
a promise?

I'd say
it was blackmail.

Well,

swords or pistols?

I think pistols
would be less tiring.

I'll tell Sellers
to arrange it.

I think I would like
that drink now.

I'll join you.

I suppose sometime tomorrow you
want me to take Victor on a long walk.

So you can be alone
with Charles.

Yes, please!

To say goodbye?

Or au revoir?

I don't know.

I honestly don't know.

It's a dreadful thing to confess,
but I simply do not know.

I can give no guarantee of what I'm
going to do or how I'm going to behave.

Do you find that
shocking?

Coming from you I do,
rather.

Surprising anyway.

Of course, it's the sort of feeling I've
been having ever since I was about 11.

Sellers!

I think I'd better
have my glasses!

Very good, my lord!

Where are they?

In my coat.

You looking
for something, sir?

Looking for the brandy,
Sellers.

His lordship's got it
in the gallery, sir.

Well, I'll fetch it if you
really feel you need it.

No, no, don't bother.

Probably do better
without it.

You were lucky
to win the toss, sir.

That luger's a far better job
than the .38 his lordships got.

Well,

good luck, sir.

Thank you, Sellers.

As I'm also his
lordship's second,

I shall of course be
wishing him good luck, too.

Good luck, my lord.

Thank you, Sellers.

Now gentlemen, are you both
absolutely sure of the procedure?

I shall go over the
final details once more.

You each take
15 paces and turn.

And then
I shall shout,

Attention.

Fire.

1, 2, 3.

If either of you should fire
after the word 3,

you could be tried
for murder.

Any questions?

Very well. Positions.
Back to back.

Ready.

15 paces.

Forward!

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10...

11...

12...

13...

Turn!

Attention!

Fire!

What was that?

I don't suppose Victor gave
Charles an exploding cigar.

Oh Hattie, really.

I can't understand it.

This thing must fire
way off to the left.

Sellers!

What are you doing?

Telephoning the doctor,
my lord.

Don't do it.
Put the telephone down.

Sellers, bring me a very
large brandy, please.

I beg your pardon,
Charles.

Bring us each
a large brandy.

I wonder if I might
have one too, my lord.

I'm feeling a little faint.

I didn't hit you,
did I, Sellers?

No, my lord. You hit the marble bust
of George IV at the end of the gallery.

I'm afraid I'm going to have
to insist on that doctor.

You just can't sit around with a
bullet hole in you drinking brandy.

That may not hurt much now,
but it's bound to hurt later on.

Yes, I dare say. But to get him
on the telephone would be a mistake,

and I'd rather you didn't.

- What's his number?
- I shan't tell you.

The local exchange has a
24 hour monitoring system.

Thank you.

Thank you, Sellers.

Thank you.

Clean the guns will you.
I'm afraid I can't manage them.

Very good, my lord.

Excuse me, sir.

What's happening?

They're all
wearing glasses!

Sellers!

Sellers, what's the matter
with you?

Nothing at all,
my lady.

Now Sellers...

Sellers, nobody's going
to hurt you.

Don't be frightened.
We're all friends here.

Victor, can't you do
something?

Darling, you've got the wrong end of
the stick. He's only going to clean them.

What's the matter with your arm?
Let me look at it.

What's been
happening here?!

Charles and I had a duel.
I missed him.

A duel?!

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm not being ridiculous.
It's perfectly true.

- You and Charles fought a duel?
- Yes, a duel.

You must be out
of your mind. Dueling...

I've never heard of
anything so preposterous.

You're the Earl of Rhyall,
not the Count of Monte Cristo.

Hattie, go and phone the doctor.
His number is 29.

Oh Sellers,
I do apologize

That's alright, my lady.
A perfectly natural mistake.

- Would you get me...
- No Hattie. Don't!

If you get him on the telephone,
the Exchange will listen.

And by tomorrow morning,
the whole village will know.

And by tomorrow evening,
it will be in the newspapers.

Someone should fetch him.

I'll go.

That's the least
he could do.

Anyway, you're not suppose to
have a duel without a doctor.

In the pictures, he's always the one
with the bag and without the beard.

Where does he live?

In the village on the
same side as the church.

He has a magnolia tree in the
garden and a brass plate on his gate.

You can't miss it.

How do I find
the village?

That's rather difficult.

I know the way, I'll show you. Wait
2 minutes and I'll put something on.

You look frightfully romantic.
Are you sure you're alright, darling?

- Perfectly.
- Honest?

Honest.

Don't you think we should tell
the doctor to send for an ambulance?

Yes, I think

you better explain. Tell him it's only
a slight wound and nothing serious.

What should I say
happened?

Tell him my butler,
who was highly nervous,

mistook for a burglar
and took a shot at me.

You don't mind,
do you, Sellers?

- Not at all, lord, not at all.
- You're clever. You think of everything.

You wait here, Charles, and I'll
give you a shout when I'm ready.

Victor wouldn't let me phone the doctor.
So Charles and I are going to fetch him.

Alright, but hurry,
won't you?

I heard the most terrific crash,
as well as the shot.

Was that you falling?

No that was George IV,
whom I mistook for Charles.

- Then you're not damaged
anywhere else? / - No, darling.

Did I hurt you?

No, darling.

We won't need you any longer, Sellers.
And thank you for all your help.

No, no, no, no, no.

Sellers acted as second
for both of us,

and conducted the whole
thing quite admirally.

Sellers, bring a hot water bottle.
Would you please?

Very good, my lady.

I suppose I'm as much
to blame as he is, but...

I really had no alternative.

I tried to talk to him, he just
kept repeating his challenge.

If I accepted, then he promised
to discuss the whole thing after.

But what if one of you
had been killed?

Or both of you?

Precisely. Point is to
discuss it beforehand.

Why didn't you miss him?
He missed you.

I still can't understand.

That wouldn't been
any good, anyway.

According to the Seller's rules,
you start at 30 paces.

As you both miss,

Then you each advance
5 paces and fire again.

You've got 3 shots in all.

It's rather like darts, except
you move nearer each time.

- Seller's rules.
- Hurry up, Charles! I'm waiting!

I'll be right back.

The West Corridor was long enough
of course, but one felt rather cramped.

We wanted
to have it outside, but

that would've meant waiting
until there was light,

and I didn't want
to keep Sellers up.

Besides, we might've been
rather drunk by then.

Here we are, my lord.

What on Earth
have you got there, Sellers?

The champagne his lordship
wanted, my lady.

Thank you, Sellers.
Open it up, will you.

When did you order
champagne?

When did I order it,
Sellers?

Earlier this evening,
my lord.

- Why?
- I thought we might need it.

Have we anything to
celebrate?

I thought
we might get thirsty.

I got it from the grocery.
I hope it's alright.

From my bill, I suppose.

I'll pay you back.

You just got it to be friendly.
Didn't you?

You have a wonderful gift
for choosing the right word.

My lady.

Thank you, Sellers.

Thank you, Sellers.
And have a glass yourself.

No thank you,
my lord. No.

I've served his
lordship's cold bottle.

I'll just go and attend
his hot one, my lady.

You're not cross with me.
Are you?

Oh no,
I'm not cross.

I just think
you should see a doctor.

I'm going to see
a doctor.

No, not him.
I mean a specialist.

A brain specialist
for mental disorders.

Do you realize that you
might've been killed.

Or disabled for life, or

put into prison
for manslaughter?

You should be flattered
a risked so much for you.

Now, where
are you going?

To put something about.

- I can get it for you.
- No, I want to attend to something else.

I thought you were an
intelligent, civilized person,

and you behave like
a barbarian.

Listen Victor, I know
I've behaved disgracefully.

But let me try and explain
what's happened to me.

We know what happened.
You fell in love.

This past week I've been
more or less schizophrenic.

As if I had two heads,
or something.

Two very pretty heads.

Here.
Put this on.

Now, how
should we do this?

Like this.

You know. One of my heads
is appalled at my behavior.

The other approves.

Two of my eyes are bewitched,
and dazzled, and so happy.

And the other two
have tears in them.

I can't explain it any other way,
and I can't expect you to understand.

Of course I understand.

I'm only so grateful to you for not saying
this is something stronger than I am.

If you want the plain,
honest truth that's exactly right.

Not that you appear
to give a damn anyway.

What makes you say that?

From what I gather
from Hattie.

All you said, was you thought
it would be a pity.

Oh, no. I said, I thought it would
be a pity if you ran away with Charles.

I can't see on what's called
the international set, my darling.

Not the glittler and glare of San Mauritz,
and Nassau, and Palm Beach.

You're English.

And you need the gentleness of
the rain and the soft winds of England.

And a nest of robins
in my hair.

Besides, you'd be wearing
sunglasses all the year round,

and no one would see
the color of your eyes.

- It would be a very great pity.
- Who's suggesting such a life for me?

Charles is.
And how do I do that?

In here. No, put your arm in first.
Put your arm in first.

At least you'd have a maid or
even perhaps two to help you pack.

Is that the only reason you
think it would be a pity?

Oh, no. Certainly not. I can
think of a thousand pities.

But none from
your point of view.

Yes indeed.
But let's not go into that.

Why not?

Because this is hardly
the moment.

Let's just say I'd should miss
going to bed with you,

and there'd be no one
to do the Christmas cards.

You seem to have
overlooked the fact

that if you hadn't invited Charles
down here for the weekend.

I should've already said
goodbye to him

and the whole thing might've
been finished and done with.

Unfinished and done with.
That's very different.

The most unsatisfactory state
of affairs for all concerned.

You think you've saved us all
that by getting shot up in a duel?

Not at all.

Although I admit a duel was an essential
part of an effort to try to preserve

- our marriage.
- I'm a little confused.

From the way you've been
talking, I imagined you were

hellbent and hot foot for
the divorce court.

No, who said anything about divorce?
I never mentioned it. I don't like divorce.

What's more, I don't think adultery
is a sufficient ground for it.

Oh, what a
masculine attitude.

I don't think marriage is just a
liaison to be terminated when the

sexual side of it gets

boring or irksome
to either party.

Oh, it's never been
boring or irksome.

Not for me, it hasn't.

And don't talk about either party.
It makes it sound like a contract.

If two people make promises,
what else can it be but a contract.

You promised to be
faithful.

You've broken that one.

Must I respond by
breaking one of mine?

To have and to hold.

From this day forth.
For better, for worse.

This moment in our lives must obviously
come under the heading "for worse".

And the popular measure to
take nowadays is to say

the better part of it is over
and here we are with the worse so,

goodbye, my dear, thank you
so much. It was fun while it lasted.

You take your boyfriend,
I'll take my freedom,

and I'll be on the Riviera
before you.

I think that's wrong.

If your mistress is unfaithful.
She should be discarded.

If your wife is,

she should be
befriended.

Befriended?

Meaning helped and
patronized?

Meaning beloved
and cherished.

Unless she's a promiscuous
trollop of course.

Then the situation's out of
control and quite hopeless.

I am not a promiscuous trollop,
it's never happened before.

- I didn't say you were and I
know it hasn't. / - It has with you.

- Objection!
- Objection overruled.

How do I know that you're
not a promiscuous...

well, whatever the
masculine is of trollop?

If you're saying I don't like French
mustard or going to the Opera,

because we've been living
together for 12 years.

OI wonder why living together sounds
so much more fun then if you said,

married for 12 years.

The hot water bottle,
my lady.

Thank you, Sellers.
Would you put it here, please.

I'm sorry
we didn't have our...

How should I put it?

Our home win,
my lord.

I'm sorry we
kept you up so late.

- Thank you, Sellers. / - No, no, no.
It's I who should be thanking you.

I've learned a great deal
from events this evening.

What have you learned,
Sellers.

Amongst other things, that
my novel is no good, my lady.

Oh, dear!

I'm about to go to my room
and tear it up.

It's not true to life
at all.

How can anyone say
what's true to life.

Now, where was I?

Up a gum tree.

Oh yes, and very
uncomfortable, too.

The role of complacent
husband I find distasteful.

And the jealous one,
rather ludicrous.

To my annoyance,
I turn out to be both.

- Are you jealous?
- Very.

It would be rather hurtful
if you weren't.

You should feel
gratified.

Yes, I do.
Thank you, darling.

Are you really sure
you're jealous?

Yes, I am.
Quite sure. Why?

Cause I wondered if it wasn't
just a sense of possession

that had been
aroused in you.

Losing something that
belonged to you.

You mean like the
contents of a suitcase?

Oh no, it's a little more
than that.

- Where is it?
- Where's what?

You know darn well what.
Come on, where is it?

I haven't the faintest idea
of what you're talking about.

We are talking about
the contents of a suitcase.

That was merely, as I said
before, a figure of speech.

Oh, yes it was,
my darling.

I suppose I really shouldn't
call you my darling, should I?

That too has become
merely a figure of speech.

I'd better get some more champagne.
This is beginning to hurt.

- Are you alright, do you think?
- Yes, thank you.

Then you get your champagne
and let me get you into bed.

Despite the fact
I'm your husband,

under the present circumstances,
I find that a most improper suggestion.

You may have talked
a lot of sense this evening.

But there's been an
awful lot of hot air, too.

Incidentally, do you think
I like growing mushrooms?

You think I like living in a few rooms
of an enormous, damp mansion?

And you know you're wrong
about the international set.

I'm sure
I'd adore them.

I've always simply
longed to meet them.

And I could
water ski and aqua lung,

instead of that well known British
past time of making both ends meet.

It would be wonderful for
the children, too, wouldn't it?

Surely, you must see
it's very tempting.

Yes, indeed. The grass is always
greener on the other side of the hedge.

You ought to think it over
very carefully.

Oh, I have.
Perhaps I still am.

If that's what you want,
I better think again.

What I cannot understand is
why you had to fight a duel.

To make my role of complacent husband
a little less ignoble, I think is the word.

And to remind you
that I'm very fond of you.

I didn't want to write you
a letter of send you roses.

I thought that a duel
would be just the ticket.

Just the ticket?
Where to? A crematorium?

- Oh no, a cloak room.
- Oh, shut up.

And you haven't told me
where it is.

Where what is?

And what would've happened if you killed
Charles. What do you think I'd have done?

I'm a very
reliable shot.

Even with a revolver.

Yes, but
what did it prove?

Obviously
nothing just yet.

So I can only suggest that
we declare a sort of moratorium.

How do you mean?

An armistice, an intermission.
Call it what you like.

Whatever you do,
you do.

If you decide to go off with him, I'll
just have to wait here until you get back.

You mean you'd be willing
to do that?

- Yes.
- For how long?

- Just as long as it takes.
- Aha, I see.

And wash that man right out
of my hair. Is that the idea?

I think the next nine wires
and send him on his way.

Which I sincerely hope you'll do.
You bloody tourist.

Let him go sightseeing
somewhere else.

You mean you'd really be prepared
to loan me to another man?

In order to get him
out of my system?

What other choice
have I?

Shocking as it may seem,
I think it's the safest route.

To back
where we were?

To back where
we were.

You must love me
very much.

Love and like and value.

So you don't want to
take me back now?

No, not under
these circumstances.

You're much too pretty
to have as a housekeeper.

But what are you going
to do all the time I'm away?

I shall cross the days
off the calender,

hope that you're having bad weather, and
that Charles is getting on your nerves.

That's not very kind.

I feel jealous, indignant, and
unhappy, but certainly not kind.

But there it is. Marriage isn't like
a tray of hors-d'oeuvres.

You can't just pick what you fancy.
You've got to take the lot or nothing.

Well...

It's settled then.

I'm sorry you were wounded.
Is it very painful?

Yes. It is a bit. Now.

Well?

Aren't you going
to kiss me goodbye?

But then ofcourse, according
to you, we shan't know

whether it is goodbye for
quite some time. Shall we?

Doctor's coming along
in his own car.

Soon as he can
get dressed.

How are you feeling?

Well Charles,

Hilary and I have had a
long talk and I've decided...

No, darling, I've decided.

Charles,

Victor's idea is that I shall go away
with you for a few months.

At the end of which time,
he hopes I will return to him.

Having got bored
with me.

Exactly.

Come now. I didn't put it
quite as crudely as that, did I?

I'm sure you did.

But then what's the point
of fighting a duel?

Because he was too lazy to write me
a letter, and too mean to send me roses.

I'm sorry.
I don't understand.

No, but the point is,
I do.

I don't think
you will be bored.

And anyway, I'm willing
to take that chance.

Are you Charles?
Are you really?

Victor, do you
remember Viula?

Oh, don't tell me
she's lost again.

Alright who's Viula, and
what's she got to do with it?

Viula is a doll, whom Emma
loves devotedly and has for years.

You can always tell how much a doll
is loved by its state of dilapidation.

And Viula is maimed
and nearly bald,

and over the years she's had a
great deal of trouble with her eyes.

The Christmas
before last,

Emmas was given a new doll,
whom she christened Angela.

And Angela had red hair which
you could permanently wave.

And if you wound her up at
the back, she could recite,

"Now I lay me down to sleep"
before she was put to bed.

She was very beautiful.

And the inevitable
happened.

Well,

about 6 months ago, Emma
had to have her tonsils out.

And as she was getting into
the car to go to the hospital,

clutching
the beloved Angela,

she suddenly
stopped dead and said,

"Where's Viula?".

And she woudln't go
without her.

Remember Victor?

We searched
for hours, and

eventually
Viula was found.

Damp, discarded, rather moldy,
and covered with ants.

We soaked her in disinfectant,
wrapped her in a towel,

pinned a label to her saying
Emergency Ward, and

Emma stopped crying.

It's a commonplace,
rather sad, little story.

Must have happened to hundreds of
children in hundreds of homes, and I'm...

I'm very sorry
to have repeated it,

particularly as I'm old enough
to know better.

And, what happened
to Angela?

I'm ashamed to say
she was left behind.

Face downward
in the gravel.

If that story is supposed to illustrate
what I think are your intentions,

I must warn you. I'm in no mood
to be soaked in disinfectant.

I guess I just

pick my face up
out of the gravel and

leave by that door through
which I came.

I'm so sorry,
Charles.

So deeply sorry.

But when I saw Victor in this
wounded state, I suddenly realized.

No, not realized,
remembered.

How very much
I love him.

And I'd forgotten it
for a whole week.

You should write it down
on your shopping list.

I'm afraid I don't want
to leave him.

Not for 3 months,
or 3 days, or even 3 hours.

There it is.

Well,

you were right,
weren't you?

And you proved
your point.

- About what?
- About dueling and the divorce rate.

You couldn't very well leave a husband
who had fought and been wounded for you.

Could you?

No.

I knew it.

Why didn't I miss him?

Why was I stupid enough
to be talked into...

Wait a minute.

Would you mind if I
had a word with Sellers?

Oh, by all means.

What do you want to talk
to Sellers about?

You'll see,
in a moment or two.

Isn't it a little late?
He'll have gone to bed.

Nonsense. He's much too
over excited to go to bed.

Yes, but we've kept him up
late enough

- as it is, darling.
- No, he's alright.

He's tearing up
his novel.

Did you ring, my lord?

Forgive my dressing
gown, my lady.

May I?

Go on. Fire away.

Fire, I must warn you,
is the operative word.

Sellers,
what's your first name?

Trevor, sir.

I thought it might be Dick,
as in "Dead Eye".

Where did you learn
to use a pistol, Sellers?

In the army, sir.

A small arms training school.
Southeast in command.

They did a good job on you,
you're a fine shot.

What is all this about?

Would you like to tell her
ladyship, Sellers? Or you Victor?

Or shall I?

Go on Sellers.
Tell them what happened.

His lordship anticipated
Mr. Delacro's intention, my lady.

What are you talking
about? What intention?

That he would of course shoot
to miss his lordship, my lady.

We reckoned, with all the excitement,
you'd be too preoccupied to notice, sir.

I fired from the hip.

- Do you mean to say...
- That I shot his lordship?

Yes, my lady. On his
instructions, of course.

A fine second
you turned out to be.

I could claim a foul,
and demand a replay.

Victor, is this true?

Yes, darling.

But I've always believed that
the happy ending justifies the means.

And I thought it was all so
romantic and you were so brave.

So I was. After the way Sellers
shot at the practice this morning,

I was never
so frightened in my life.

What was the best
you got, Sellers?

3 flower pots out of 5,
my lord.

There, you see?

Will that be all,
my lady?

- Yes, thank you Sellers. Goodnight.
- Goodnight, my lady.

Goodnight, my lord.

Good night, sir.

Victor, darling.
You feeling alright now?

No.

Where did you get
that coat?

Somebody gave it
to me.

What for? Just
answer me that. What for?

To keep me warm,
I suppose.

- Who gave it to you?
- I've been dying to show it to you.

You're not jealous,
are you, darling?

Do you know that for just one
split second, I was. I really was.

I can't blam you.
Isn't the color dreamy?

Take it off.

- You want to try it on?
- I have tried it on. Take it off.

- Look out for my arm.
- But Vicky, darling! I can't!

- I haven't got much underneath.
- I couldn't care less. Take it off!

You could try it on in the morning.

- Take it off!
- Vicky, darling. I can't!

I am going to count to 3.

1...

2...

- How do I shoot this?
- Oh, no, no, no!

Oh, this way!

Yes, that's right.
Now then, for the last time.

Take it off!

I suppose this is what's called
being frightened out of one's skins.

Dearest Charles, this is the most
lovely coat I have ever seen.

But I'm afraid I must
give it back to you.

- I'm cold! / - You better
put this back on right away.

Thank you, Charles.

Isn't it gorgeous. I finally got a mink.
It just goes to show you, doesn't it?

Oh, Hil, darling.
You did look lovely in it.

- And I'm sure you did.
- I must say I did like it.

But it is a little too much
for a housekeeper to wear mink.

What do you mean,
housekeeper?

That's my position here,
for a little while.

Good.
Then give me that.

- Thank you, Sellers.
- Thank you, Madame.

Goodbye,
Mrs. Durant, dear.

Goodbye Hil, darling.

- Bye, darling.
- Thank you for a lovely weekend.

- Bye, Charles.
- Goodbye, Hilary.

Goodbye, Charles.

Victor.

- Bye, darling.
- Bye bye.

Here they are.

- Hello, my love!
- Phillip, Phillip!

- How nice to see you.
- Hello, darling.

What happened
to your arm, Daddy?

- I sprained my wrist.
- He broke his shoulder.