Original subtitles

Here is a forsyte.

Jon forsyte, the young man

whom fleur once loved.

June forsyte called him

her little brother,

and talked

of a family feud.

Thank the lord

for the feud, say I,

and for south carolina.

Three thousand miles

from london,

as the crow can't fly.

This is a good piano.

Does anne play?

Yes she does,

but not as well as you,

mrs. Forsyte, ma'am.

Were you ever

a professional?

Nearly.

A long time ago.

How do you keep it tuned?

There's a little

old man, a german,

who travels all over this

section in an ancient flivver.

He tunes all the pianos

between charleston

and augusta, georgia.

Are there many?

They're pretty

scattered about, I guess.

Anyway, he stays over

a couple of nights

and we have

some fine music.

He plays well?

Pretty good.

Schubert. Brahms.

Mendelssohn.

German stuff mostly.

We like it.

So do I.

Sherry, ma'am?

Thank you.

We feed him up,

give him his $10.00,

and send him

on his way.

Southern hospitality.

I've noticed.

Well, ma'am, when you're

as isolated as we are,

in a big country,

why, it's only natural

to welcome strangers.

As you welcomed me.

You and your sister

have been so kind.

It's been a pleasure

to have you here, ma'am.

Mr. Wilmot...

francis.

I did ask you.

Yes. Yes,

so you did.

Francis...

when jon came back

three months ago

and told me how he'd

met you two in camden

and that you'd asked

him to stay here,

I won't deny that

i was curious about you.

Curious?

A young man and his

even younger sister

living alone in a romantic

southern mansion.

A decaying

southern mansion.

Picturesque was jon's

word for it.

It would be.

Can you wonder

that I was curious?

Because you're

a mother, ma'am?

With an only son?

You're rather shrewd,

aren't you?

I don't think so.

But ever since

our parents died...

when was that?

Nine years ago.

They were drowned.

What?

In the lusitania.

Coming home from europe.

Remember the lusitania?

Who could forget?

So you

were left alone

with a sister and a mansion

and a cotton plantation.

No other relations?

None nearer

than california,

and that's

a long ways away.

How old were you?

Seventeen.

Anne was 11.

And you looked

after her.

At first. And now

she looks after me.

And forgive

mrs. Forsyte, ma'am,

I don't want

to see her hurt.

Hurt?

Is there any danger of that?

It's possible.

You see, I think

she's in love with jon.

Really in love?

I guess so.

Has she said that she is?

Well, no.

Anne doesn't say much.

I've noticed that.

It's very refreshing.

But it shows.

At least

it does to me.

Now, I've nothing

against jon. I like him.

I'm glad

to hear it.

But you can't make

a man love a girl

unless he's

so inclined.

Or vice versa.

What?

Or vice versa.

Oh, sure.

But jon...

there's a doubt

in my mind.

A doubt

about jon?

Don't get me wrong.

He's straight.

I'm convinced of that.

But if he loves her,

and I think he does,

why doesn't

he say something?

I get the feeling...

and I may be way off,

that there's something

holding him back.

Something?

Or someone, perhaps?

Well, ma'am?

It's not me.

I promise you that.

But if you thought

it might be,

I shouldn't find

the suggestion impertinent.

The world's full

of possessive mothers.

I'm not one of them.

Forgive me, but does

jon understand that?

Yes, he does.

Well, then.

I see that I must

tell you something.

You see, three years ago,

jon, in england,

had a bitter experience.

I'd like to hear...

I won't give you the details.

It's all in the past now.

But he was badly

hurt at the time.

And when you are

really hurt, francis,

you're seldom in a hurry

to repeat the experience.

I see that,

but if jon and anne love...

may I suggest that we

just give them time?

By the way,

shouldn't they be back

from their ride?

It's getting late.

You're right.

It's a quarter to 6:00.

Now that's not good.

If they lose the trail.

Surely, horses always

know their way home.

Not these two,

they came in

from camden yesterday.

I gave them to jon

and anne to try out.

Francis...

you're not...

you're not

really worried?

No.

They'll be all right.

I'm pretty sure we're

on the wrong trail.

Yes, I've thought so

for some time.

We're too far

to the west, I think.

You sure

of that, jon?

Not in the least.

We're lost.

What fun.

Well, it's no joke

in these woods.

Don't they

ever end?

I guess not.

Your brother's going

to be pretty sick with me.

I promised him

i'd take care of you.

Well, you are

taking care of me.

Don't be upset.

This is an adventure.

Look, the moon comes up

in about two hours.

There's no sense

in riding on

until we can see.

Over there, jon,

in that clearing,

isn't that

the indian mound

we passed

coming out?

Either that one

or another.

We'll get some shelter

there until moonrise

right. Well, I'll

tether the horses.

It's going

to be cold.

Jon, here.

Where are you?

Down here.

Ah.

Dry as a bone.

Good.

Yes, it is.

Here.

Oh, thanks.

Let's see if we can

get them alight.

All right.

There.

Splendid.

You must be cold.

Look here, have my coat.

You do that, and I'll run

out into those woods

and get really lost.

You know, I'd be

scared on my own.

Seems kind

of spooky here.

Spirits of

the old indians.

What tribes

hereabouts?

Oh, seminoles,mostly.

But these mounds

were built

by much

older people.

Nobody knows

who they were.

All dead and gone.

Well I don't

believe in spooks.

You would if you'd

had a colored nanny.

Did you have one?

Surely.

Her voice was as soft

as soft as mush melon.

She used to tell

me stories

that made my hair

stand on end.

"Like quills upon

the fretful porpentine."

Exactly.

Do you mind?

I've got the creeps

down the back.

Of course not. It's only

the wind getting up.

No...

it's the spooks.

Am I too heavy?

Not at all.

"Not at all."

English.

Do you know? You're the first

english person I've ever met.

You disappointed?

Not at all.

I'd love

to see england.

Our folks came over

from there, 1700.

Worcestershire.

Where's that?

It's pronounced

worcestershire.

Worcestershire?

Worcestershire.

Worcest...

it's our...

well, it's our

"middle west," really.

But as unlike yours as

you could ever imagine.

No, it's...

it's fruit-growing

country, mostly.

Very pretty.

White houses,

black-timbered.

Pastures. Orchards.

Green hills.

With the light

changing on them

as the high clouds go by.

Sounds wonderful.

How could you

ever leave?

What made you

come to america?

I went to british

columbia first,

but I didn't

get on too well.

Then I heard of peaches

in north carolina.

And how are the peaches

in north carolina?

Oh, they're fine.

That's more

than I can say

for cotton

in south carolina.

But you

haven't told me.

Why did you

leave england?

Partly because I wanted

to see the world.

And partly for...

well...

for family reasons.

They were important

at the time...

but not anymore.

Anne?

Are you awake?

Mm-hm.

Hey.

The moon.

I know.

Look, I'm in

charge of you.

Come on.

Anne, look over there.

That funny old tree,

like a witch.

Remember passing it

on the way out?

We are on

the right trail.

Yes, jon.

General election!

Parliament dissolved!

General election!

Parliament dissolved!

General election!

Parliament dissolved!

General election!

This is london calling,

Here is the first general news bulletin

copyright by reuter press association,

exchange telegraph

and central news.

The government were defeated

in the house of commons last night.

This morning

the prime minister,

mr. Ramsay macdonald,

had an audience of the king

and asked his majesty

to dissolve parliament.

It was a pretty

dramatic moment...

The size of the final majority

against the government

came as a surprise

to all parties.

Well blythe,

that's that.

Baldwin's in,

and this time

he'll get

a thumping majority.

One expects so.

But what he'll do

with it is...

You'll be standing again,

michael, of course.

Oh, I'm not so sure, bart...

I've been eating the country's

bread for six months now,

and I haven't opened my mouth

except to chew.

On my advice, sir lawrence.

If one is going to put

foggartism over in parliament...

Put what over?

Foggartism, bart.

Foggartism?

Yes. Sir james foggart,

you know.

I'm sorry, I don'T.

He wrote a book, the

powerless state of england.

Danby and winter,

25 shillings.

Nobody's ever read it.

Except blythe and me.

Danby only published

because old foggart

stumped up for it himself.

It came out four months

after I left the firm

and abandoned

publishing forever.

What is

the thesis?

Well, his eyes

are fixed on 1944

and his policies

according.

Disarmament

if possible,

but he doesn't

believe it'll work.

Well, and who does?

Right. So we must keep

a strong air force.

He says we're going

to need it.

And a good deal before 1944,

if one is any judge.

Then the land.

We must subsidize

agriculture.

Heresy!

Yes, but common

sense too, bart.

Look,

we're an island,

growing 1/5

of our food.

We could grow 3/4.

In another war,

what with submarines,

we may have to.

By then it'll be too late.

Fascinating.

Continue.

Child emigration.

I beg your pardon?

Take the kids out of

the gutters and slums

and send them abroad

to populate the dominions:

Australia. Canada.

New zealand. South africa.

Build a healthy

population

hungry for our goods

all over the empire,

and in 20 years...

in short,

suffer a worse present,

for the sake

of a better future.

Exactly.

Now do you

really think

that the electors give

a tinker's curse

about the future?

Look, bart,

they care

about this ghastly

unemployment,

as we all do.

Foggartism can cure it.

You'd have to prove it,

and they won't let you.

No political party would face

an increase in taxation.

Too unpopu

one can only try,

sir lawrence.

No.

Eat your cake

and have it.

That's the slogan

that wins elections.

Oh, by the way, michael,

you stood as a tory

last time,

what do they think

of this, uh,

remarkable policy?

And what about

your constituents?

Will they fall

for it?

Mid-bucks, sir lawrence.

Agricultural district.

You see, bart, I thought

if I stood as an independent,

I could...

you'd lose your deposit.

What does

fleur think?

She likes you

being an M.P.

And she keeps her ear

to the ground.

Ah, our

charming lady.

Well, she says go

in as a tory.

And then disagree

with everybody.

Bring up foggartism if I want

to in my maiden speech,

set them all by the ears.

Hm, shrewd.

One endorses that.

By the way, blythe, you coming

to her evening on wednesday?

Certainly

good.

I'm sorry you

can't come, bart.

Oh, lord, I better go.

By the way,

fleur also suggested

i should take up

some eccentricity.

Ah.

Like wearing

a monocle.

Indeed?

Yes. No go I said.

After all, it never did

you any good, did it?

No, because I am not

a politician.

But what sir austen chamberlain

would have done without his

i shudder to think,

eh, blythe?

Hm.

It's the prettiest room

i ever was in.

What a perfectly charming

thing to overhear.

Mrs. Mont?

It used to be chinese,

but I like this better.

So jon married your sister.

Is she pretty?

Yes, she is.

Very?

Yes indeed, ma'am.

And do you appro

oh, I sure do. Young jon's

a pretty fine fella. And anne...

I'm glad.

Do come and sit down.

Holly tells me you've been

staying in sussex with them.

Oh, I was.

I aim to go back,

but I had

to see londo

of course. And you must

come and stay here.

Why, no.

That'd be...

nonsense.

Be as free as you like.

Consider us a hotel.

That's real good of you.

I've never been

on this side before.

They got through

the war too soon.

Lucky for you.

You must meet our son,

christopher. Kit for short.

How old is he?

Just over a year.

Michael will be

in directly.

He's in parliament,

you know.

You might even like

to hear a debate.

Oh, I should

admire to.

I don't know,

the decor's amusing,

but it's usually a bore.

No worse than

congress, I reckon.

No.

Tell me, what's jon like now,

still english?

Well, he sounds

like it to me.

And his mother?

She used to be beautiful.

And is so to this day.

She would be.

You don't like her?

I only hope she isn't

jealous of your sister.

Isn't that, perhaps,

just a little bit unjust?

Yes, I think

perhaps it is.

If you really mean

to have me here...

of course.

I better go

collect my baggage.

Do that. Dinner's at 8:00,

and your room will be ready.

Wonderful. I was

getting kind of homesick.

I'm not accustomed

to big cities.

See you later, ma'am.

Oh, there you are,

soames.

We don't want

to be late.

There's plenty

of time.

Yes, I've ordered

a taxi.

Good.

Have you seen this?

What is it?

It's the "chiff-chaff"column.

It's gossip, you know?

Yes, rubbish.

Written by housemaids

for housemaids.

Oh, no, dear.

It's malicious

sometimes, yes.

But it's quite

well-informed.

Oh, no. For instance:

"A surprise

for the next parliament

"is being confected

at the wednesday gatherings

"of a young hostess not a

hundred miles from westminster.

"Her husband,

a prospective baronet

lately connected

with literature..."

what?

What's that?

They mean michael,

of course.

And fleur.

"...Is to be entrusted

with the launching of a policy

"which enjoys the peculiar

label of foggartism.

"Well, we shall see.

"But in the meantime,

"the enterprising

little lady in question

"is losing no chance

of building up her salon

"on the curiosity

which ever surrounds

any buccaneering

in politics."

Give me that.

There you are.

Who writes

this stuff?

Well, it's anonymous,

of course.

"Enterprising

little lady."

You know, I wouldn't

be at all surprised

if this isn't

actionable.

Oh, rubbish, soames.

It's silly gossip, that's all.

We shall see.

Yes. Well, there's

one thing clear anyway.

They got a traitor

in their camp.

Hm. "Buccaneering"?

Whoever wrote that comes

to your house as a guest.

Who is he?

Well, it's most

likely a she.

You mean to say women

write such stuff?

And they

print it?

You're behind

the times, sir.

And a very

good thing too.

Will they tell me

who it is,

if I go down

and ask them?

No!

But...

fortunately.

How do you mean

"fortunately"?

Well look, sir, the press

is a sensitive plant.

You might

make it curl up.

Besides, they're always

saying nice things

that aren't deserved.

You mean we have

to sit down under this?

To lie down,

I'm afraid, sir.

Oh, yes,

I'm sure that's wise.

It's so much better

to take no notice.

Oh, fleur has a party

this evening?

Yes. They start

coming about 10:00.

I shall stay.

If I may.

Keep my eyes open.

May I stay too?

Hello, everybody.

Sorry I'm late.

Michael, I didn't

know you were in.

Hello, darling.

Shouldn't you go

and change?

Dinner's in 20 minutes.

Oh, we have another guest.

Oh, who?

A young american

called francis wilmot.

He arrived on

the mauretania last week.

I've asked him

to stay.

Wilmot?

Jon forsyte

married his sister.

I told you,

darling.

Well, that's delightful.

Well, where is the...

good evening.

Come and be

introduced.

This is my aunt,

mrs. Dartie.

Val's mother.

Francis wilmot.

How do you do?

Mrs. Dartie.

Holly wrote me

about you.

And my father,

mr. Forsyte.

How are you, sir?

And this is

my husband, michael.

Francis wilmot.

Very kind of you

and mrs. Mont to invite me.

Not at all.

Well, I must go

and change.

Ring for sherry,

would you, fleur?

Now, mr. Wilmot,

you must tell me what

you think of wansdon.

Do you care

for horses?

Yes, well,

of course you do,

coming from

the deep south.

Or am I thinking

of the wild west?

Evening, coaker.

Evening, madam.

How now, coaker?

Are you well?

Thank you, sir.

Just full enough,

I should say,

and not too full.

Shall we go

well, aubrey, dear,

now we're here.

Well,

come along then.

Oh, what a place

to hang a picture.

You can't get back

far enough to see it!

Don't you agree,

coaker?

It's not my place

to say, mr. Greene.

Because I painted

the damn thing. Bad luck.

Aubrey, dear, do stop

admiring yourself.

I want a

ah, well, to think

that wonderful body

omewhere

in australia.

It's a crime.

A shame.

Shall I announce

you, sir?

No, don't bother.

We'll just float in

like the wild, wandering

spirit that we are.

Come, marjorie.

Michael! Fleur!

Splendid.

Aubrey! Marjorie!

Hello. How are you?

He's gorgeously brown,

isn't he, michael?

Yes, he is.

And marjorie just looks

gorgeous, as usual.

Thank you,

michae

Miss ferrar!

Ah!

Well,

how was italy?

A revelation.

My spirits sank,

getting back here.

But this cheers

me up no end.

How sweet of you

to ask me, fleur.

We've missed you terribly.

He's been away ages.

Two months. I missed

all the drama.

You'll have to tell me

about ramsay mac

and the liberal

scuttle.

Of course. But first,

you must have a drink.

Thank you.

Ah, there we are.

There.

Michael. Keep an eye

on francis.

He's looking

left-out.

Very well.

Aubrey, come and meet

an american friend

of ours,

mr. Francis wilmot.

Francis, this

is aubrey greene,

who painted that delicious

naked girl in the hall.

I must congratulate

you, sir.

It's a beautiful

painting.

Thank you for calling

it a painting.

You don't mean to tell me

it's a reproduction.

No, indeed,

I was slightly pleased

with it

when I did it.

Good lord, audrey.

Aren't you now?

I'm less sure.

Wilmot's the first to call it

a painting for a long time.

What on earth are

you talking about?

I'll tell you,

dear boy.

To most people it's just

a "delicious naked girl."

But victorine

was much more.

If I only went skin-deep,

then I failed.

I should have painted

her 20 times,

but the stupid

little

went off to australia

with her husband.

Aubrey?

I ask you.

Excuse me.

Yes?

You certainly know

some interesting people.

Yes. And some

damned dull ones too.

Excuse me.

Sure.

I haven't got

a drink yet.

Let's see if we can find a way

to get some champagne.

Ah, thank you.

Isn't the little

mont amusing?

Just look

at her now!

Oh, who's that

with her?

Don fernando,darling.

You'd think he

was her only joy.

Ah, there's young bashly.

Off she goes.

Oh, she does it

pretty well.

Rubbish, aubrey.

It's a rotten performance

by any standards.

Oh? I thought you

were impressed.

She's a born

little snob.

She really thinks

she's making a "salon."

And isn't she?

Oh, lord, no.

To form a "salon" you

need personality, wit

and the don't-give-a-damn

spirit.

But fleur,

she hasn't got a scrap.

Besides,

who is she?

Money.

Not so very much.

Michael's such

dead nuts on her

he's getting dull.

Oh, so that's it?

I imagined

it was parliament.

Have you heard this foggartism

stuff they're talking?

Yes, all food, children

and the future.

The very dregs

of dullness.

Ah, it's the vice

of our life.

One does resent

a nobody like her

climbing in on

this sort of piffle.

But she's using it.

Anything to get a leg up

the social ladder.

Poor michael.

She's exploiting him

quite ruthlessly.

Who's that

old buffer?

Oh, good god, I didn't

know he was there.

That's fleur's father.

Oh?

Michael. Who's the young

woman with the red hair?

Who, marjorie ferrar?

She's the traitoress.

Turn her out

but she's the daughter

of lord charles...

turn her out!

We know her quite well.

How do you know

she's the traitoress?

I've just

heard her us

the very words

of the paragraph,

and worse.

But she's

our guest.

Hm. Pretty guest.

No, sir!

You can't turn out a guest!

Besides, she's the granddaughter

of a marquis.

Cause a devil

of a scandal, sir.

Then cause it.

Look, sir.

We won't ask her again.

But I'm afraid

that's all we can do.

Is it?

Soames!

It's really true.

Madam. Madam!

You were good enough

to call my daughter

a snob in her own house.

You are a traitoress.

Be so good as

to withdraw.

That'll do, sir.

This isn't

a peace conference.

I don't know this person,

but he's a liar.

No, ma'am.

That he is not.

Sorry, michael.

Michael, my dear...

It's best. Dear, boy...

oh, no. The old boy's gone

too far this time.

Madame carelli

is going to play!

Well,

that is delightful.

Scarlatti, I hope.

Now don't you

simply adore scarlatti?

Yes, ma'am.

Yes, I knew you would.

This is going

to be a feast.

Tibby, sit

yourself down.

All right, coaker.

Granddaughter

of a marquis, is she?

Who's she, I'd like to know,

to give herself airs?

Aristocrats.

I wouldn't cross

the road

to talk to the duke

of bermondsey.

If fleur wants...

yes, sir. Fleur.

Well, if fleur wants to have

people along in the evening

to amuse herself,

why shouldn't she?

Why shouldn't she?

Don't you realize

what you've done, sir?

A snob and a nobody, is she?

We'll see about that.

Yes, sir.

I'm afraid we shall.

What's that?

Well, I got rid of that

red-haired cat for you anyway.

Good riddance.

Now you know

where you stand.

Storm in a tea cup.

Buck up, darling.

If you aren't one,

what does it matter?

Who cares

what one is?

It's what

one's labeled.

Well, we've labeled

her a "traitoress."

As if that makes it

any better.

We all talk behind

each other's backs.

Who minds

well, how can I go on when

everybody is snickering:

"Fleur mont, the little

lion-hunting snob."

She'll cry it out

all over london,

just out of revenge.

Oh, how can I have

any more evenings?

Come, look. Never mind

what people say, fleur.

Sooner or later,

one's got

to face that anyway.

It's you who

aren't facing it.

If one isn't thought nice,

one can't be nice.

Look, only the people

who really know one

matter, you know.

Nobody knows one.

The fonder they

the less it matters

what they think.

God, I hate her!

And if I can hurt her,

I will.

Yes.

Well, shall we sleep

on it, hm?

I said I shan't have

any more evenings,

but I shall.

Good.

That's the spirit.

No. Oh, thank you.

Ah, mr. Wilmot.

The last survivors

of a stricken field.

That was...

oh, well, ma'am.

Don't distress yourself,

young man.

This was a particularly

dramatic evening.

But society isn't

like that every night.

Worse luck.

That girl...

who, marjorie ferrar?

They tell me she's

as fast as they're made.

Sit yourself down.

Her father, you know,

owned the horse that didn't

beat the french horse

in the something

or other stakes at...

where was it now?

Let me see, uh...

newmarket.

I thought she

e most

wonderful girl

i've ever seen.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Your taxi's here, madam.

Hm? Oh, thank you,coaker.

Most wonderful.

Well, good gracious me.

Mr. Forsyte,

I presume?

You made use of an insulting

word to my daughter

last night in the presence

of several people.

Yes. It was

richly deserved.

You were not

drunk then?

Not at a

i have the names

of those who overheard it.

You will be good enough to write

to each of them separately,

and withdraw your

expression unreservedly.

I'll do nothing

of the sort.

You're an attorney,

I believe?

A solicitor.

Then you know

the consequences of refusal.

If your daughter wishes

to go into court,

I shall meet her there.

You refuse to withdraw?

Absolutely.

Good day, then.

Good day.

Ah.

Quick action,

I see.

Charlie ferrar

was always a thruster.

Tell me about him.

What's his standing?

He owes money everywhere,

has some useful horses,

and is a very

good shot.

Well, he didn't strike

me as a gentleman.

And his daughter

is no lady.

Single-minded,

forsyte.

Single-minded.

But you're right.

There's a queer streak

in that blood.

His father, the old

marquis of shropshire's

a dear old man,

skipped his generation.

But it's there.

It's there.

He called me

an attorney.

His daughter

called me a liar.

I don't know

which is worse.

She may, uh...

she may bring

an action, forsyte.

It was very public.

What evidence have you?

My own ears.

Oh. Anything else?

That paragraph

in the papers.

She may get

at the paper,

and they'll

cover up for her.

Anything more?

Well, that chap

she was talking to.

It was aubrey greene,

bart. The painter.

Oh, that man.

He's a nice chap.

In fact,

I like him, but...

well, he's an old chum

of marjorie'S.

That american heard something.

He must have done.

Wilmot?

Yes. He intervened

when she called me a liar.

Better take care she doesn't

get at him, michael.

You say she called

you a liar.

Why not take

the offensive?

What's her reputation?

She's in a set,

I suppose?

Yes. The panjoys.

All right, they don't

really count.

Yes.

Thank you.

Bring an action

against a woman?

No, it wouldn't do.

Quite right, forsyte.

They have their

privileges still.

There's nothing

for it but to wait

and see how

the cat jumps.

Oh, so...

sir lawrence:

"Traitoress."

I suppose you know

how much the word costs?

It's not the cost.

It's the publicity.

I think I'll go

and see old shropshire.

My father and his used

to shoot woodcock together.

Will that help?

Well, I don't know.

He's 80, has gout

in the stomach,

but he's as brisk

as a bee.

Oh, well...

it's worth trying.

Um...

hm.

I'll go now.

I don't want you to.

No, no, no. The grass

shall not grow, forsyte.

Thank you, bart.

What does fleur say?

War.

What?

To the knife.

Women.

No imagination.

Hello?

Oh, it's you again.

No, there's no need.

I'll put it all

in writing.

In fact,

I have already done so.

Sorry to keep you waiting,

young mont.

Do sit down.

Yes, if you adopt my scheme

for electrification

i guarantee a saving

to your ratepayers

of at least 3000 a year.

And what's m

you'll confer a benefit

on the countryside

by abolishing the smoke

of four filthy chimneys.

What's that?

He's obliged.

Yes, I should hope you

would be obliged.

You'll have the whole scheme

by tomorrow's post.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

Now, my dear young mont.

What can I do for you?

I've come for your advice.

How can I advise you?

Your granddaughter, sir,

and my daughter-in-law

want to fight

like billy-O.

Marjorie?

Ho-ho-ho...

I draw the line.

A charming young woman

to look at,

but I draw the line.

What's she done

she's called my daughter-in-law

a snob and a lion-hunter.

And my daughter-in-law's

father

has called your granddaughter

a traitoress to her face.

Oh, bold man.

Who is he?

His name

is forsyte.

Forsyte?

Name's familiar. Now where

would that be, I wonder?

Forsyte...

ah. Forsyte and treffry,

the big tea people.

My father had his tea

from them direct.

Real caravan.

No such tea now.

Same family?

Some relation,

perhaps.

This man is a solicitor.

Retired.

Chiefly renowned

for his pictures.

A man of some substance

and probity.

And is his daughter

a snob and a...

what did you say?

Lion-hunter.

Is she?

She's a charmer.

Likes to have people

about her.

Excellent

little mother.

Some french blood.

Ah, the french.

Better built round

the middle than our people.

Well, what do you want

me to do?

Speak to your son,

charles.

Can'T.

I'm sorry, mont.

I never speak

to charlie.

We haven't spoken

for six years.

I'm sorry, sir.

I didn't know.

Sorry to have

bothered you.

Oh, it's no bother.

It's a pleasure to see you.

What shall we do with

these young women, mont?

No sense of service.

No continuity.

No figures.

No hair.

It's a problem,

I agree, sir.

Goodbye, marquis.

Goodbye,

my dear young mont.

Delighted to see you

looking so well.

Command me

at any time.

Oh, it occurs to me,

if I should

have occasion,

if I should run

across marjorie,

I'll see.

So you've found london

disappointing?

Why, no, ma'am.

On the contrary.

But you think paris

will be more fun.

Well, you know what they say

about americans and paris.

I thought that

was only the yankees.

However, I'm sure

you'll enjoy it.

Be sure to come and see us

on your way home.

I sure will.

Mr. Wilmot

is leaving us, father.

He's going to paris.

You're just in time

to say goodbye.

Ah, yes.

Well, uh...

goodbye.

Oh, if you're interested

in pictures, mr. Wilmot,

you should look in

at the louvre.

I will.

It's been a privilege

to know you, sir.

Oh?

I'll be writing

to jon from paris.

I will surely

send your love.

Thank you.

I'll be glad to have

you and michael

come stay with me

any time you come over.

It would be a treat

to have you.

That would be very kind of you.

Thank you very much.

That was all

very sudden.

He upset about something?

Why did you make

that fuss last night, hm?

What good do you think

you've done?

I feel as though I can't look

anyone in the face again.

But I'm going to,

all the same.

If I'm a lion-hunter

and a snob,

I'll do it

thoroughly.

But I only wish

you wouldn't go on

thinking I'm still a child

and can't

defend myself.

I'm sorry, I can't help it.

Everything's ruined.

There you are, sir.

Thank you very much.

Thanks.

Hello, mr. Wilmot.

Oh, hello.

You know my name.

I asked that

parlormaid.

She said you were staying

with the monts.

Oh, I was. But I'm staying

here for tonight.

I'm catching the boat train

for new york?

Paris. Then florence

and on to rome.

Globetrotting.

You got room

for me in your...

what do you call it?

Your "grip"?

Joke, mr. Wilmot.

Though now I come

to think of it...

ah, well.

You disapprove of me?

Last night I did.

I know. Why?

You called

your hostess a snob.

My dear

if one never call

one's friends

anything worse

than that...

I didn't mean

you to hear...

or that pompous old

person with the chin.

He's fleur's father,

and he was hurt.

Well, I'm sorry.

Anyway, I admire you

for sticking up for him.

Thank you, ma'am.

But what else

could a man do?

I know dozens

who wouldn'T.

Don't you know my name?

Or do you always

call women "ma'am"?

Certainly I know your name

and where you live.

I was around there

this morning.

Were you? What time?

I was in.

About 5:30.

What?

I couldn't sleep.

Kept thinking about you.

Well, I just wanted

to be near you.

That's a pretty speech.

Come and have tea

with me there tomorrow.

I got to be in paris.

I shall expect you.

Now I must fly.

My hairdresser won't forgive me.

Tomorrow?

Can you help me, please?

I'd like to cancel

some reservations.

I don't know how many more

she wrote, of course,

but I should have thought

these two were enough.

May I see them please,

miss ferrar?

Thank you.

Now are these, uh...

these two ladies,

sally, uh...

penrryn

and audrey maltese.

Friends of yours?

Yes.

And of mrs. Mont?

I don't know

about "friends."

Quite.

"Snake of the first water...

"sneaks into

one's house...

"she hasn't

a moral about her

nor a decent impulse."

Now, miss ferrar,

when your fianc�

asked me to come here...

sir alexander macgown

isn't my fianc�.

Oh? He lead me to believe...

at the moment,

it's completely unofficial.

I haven't made up

my mind.

I understand.

Let us proceed then.

When sir alexander asked me,

as his solicitor,

to look into this, I understood

it to be on the basis

only of a spoken slander

by a mr. Forsyte.

But since then, these letters

have been written by mrs. Mont,

and have come

into your possession.

How did that happen,

miss ferrar?

Mrs. Penrryn

and mrs. Maltese

gave them to me.

Quite voluntary,

of course.

Of course.

They thought

i should k

what was being

written about me.

Quite so.

And now your intention,

I take it,

is to drop the slander

action against forsyte

and to sue mrs. Mont

for libel?

Yes, my father

suggested that,

and so did

sir alexander.

Then may I ask you

some questions?

What would you like me

to tell you?

The truth.

But naturally.

Tell me now,

what actually occurred

at mrs. Mont's party?

Well, I was just saying

to mr. Greene that mrs. Mont

was very eager to form a salon,

and didn't have

the right qualities.

Mr. Forsyte overheard and

thought I was insulting her.

Is that all?

I may have said she was fond

of lions, and so she is.

Yes, but, uh...

why did he call you

a traitoress?

Because she was my hostess,

I suppose.

Mr. Greene confirm you

in this?

Aubrey? Lord, yes.

He's in my pocket.

Did anybody else overhear?

No.

What about an american?

He won't say so anyway.

An admirer?

No. He's going away.

Now th

you want a written apology

from mrs. Mont

and whatever you can get,

I suppose.

Yes. The more

the better.

You're hard up?

Couldn't well

be harder.

I see.

But you don't want to bring

it into court, I take it?

No, not really.

And sir alexander feels...

as a member of parliament,

he would find it...

but he'd back me up

if it does.

I'm fully

aware of that.

Personally, I think

it might be rather fun.

That depends on

the number of skeletons

you have in your cupboard.

I shall put everything

into your hands.

Oh, the letters should be

sufficient, miss ferrar.

And she is a little snob,

you know.

Did you happen

to use that word?

No, I'm pretty sure

i didn'T.

It does make a difference.

Are you quite sure?

Not quite.

Forsyte says you did.

Well, I told him

he was a liar.

Did you indeed?

And they heard you?

Rather.

That could be important.

I don't think he'll go

into court

and say I called her a snob.

That's very shrewd,

miss ferrar.

Thank you.

Yes, I think we shall do...

I think we shall do very well.

We'll serve a writ for libel

and see what happens.

Goodbye.

Goodbye mr. Settlewhite.

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