"BONJOUR." "BONJOUR." "BONJOUR." "Oh, nuts." "Well, baby, the name is Curtis." "May I present Thomas B. Chambers." "My name is Gilda Farrell." "Coming back to the subject of art..." "Are you a painter?" "Yes." "What did you say your name was?" "Curtis." "George Curtis?" "Yes." "You exhibited a painting at the Shale Galleries?" "True." "Let me see, uh..." "Oh, Lady Godiva, wasn't it?" "Did you like it?" "I saw it with a friend of mine." "She loved it." "We haven't spoken since." "I, uh, I wouldn't consider her one of your greatest admirers." "Are you a painter, too?" "Oh, no, not me." "I'm a playwright." "I write unproduced plays, and very good at that kind." "Why didn't you like my picture?" "It's smart aleck." "You're wisecracking with paint." "It simply creaks with originality." "Lady Godiva riding a bicycle." "I know what she means." "A bicycle seat is a little hard on Lady Godiva's historical background." "Shut up." "I see." "Lady Godiva doesn't belong on a bicycle, but it's okay to put Napoleon in a Kaplan and McGuire non-wrinkling 250 unión suit!" "Quite right." "That's not history." "And if I may say so, they, uh, they do wrinkle." "I'm a commercial artist." "I'm being paid for telling the world that if Napoleon were alive today, he would wear Kaplan and McGuire's 250 non-wrinkling underwear." "Pure hooey." "You're wasting your time painting for art galleries." "You should get in contact with some bicycle manufacturer." "You'd clean up." "I'll give you a good slogan:" ""Join Lady Godiva on Our Tandem."" "Don't say nuts, not to a lady." "Hurry up, Gilda!" "Shake a leg!" "It's amazing how a few insults can bring people together in three hours." "It was certainly good to hear all the names you called me." "I haven't heard 'em since I left Father and Mother." "What we want to know is do you like us better than Kaplan and McGuire." "Let me tell you, Curtis and Chambers deliver the goods." "Max." "Gilda." "Darling." "I don't think it's Kaplan." "I doubt if it's McGuire." "And it's certainly not Napoleon." "Take a letter." "Yes, sir." "My dear Mr. Thomas B. Chambers." "Uh, cross that out." "Mr. Chambers." "Comma, paragraph." "I am writing you in regard to your undesirable attentions to Miss Gilda Farrell." "Hello." "Yes." "No, no, no, that won't do at all." "I want the copy to read exactly as I laid it out." ""The real aristocrat surrenders to Murphy Hold 'Em Up Suspenders."" "A- and put "Hold 'Em Up" in a brighter color." "A- and listen, put that French touch in the suspenders." "Where was I?" ""Undesirable attentions to Miss Gilda Farrell."" "I'm afraid, Bassington, that you are wrong." "I'm afraid, Bassington, that you are..." "I'm afraid, Bassington, that you are right, but nonetheless boring." "Very good." "Very good." "Bassington curls his lips foolishly and crosses to left." "Bassington speaks." ""There's only one thing I have to say to you."" "What could he say?" ""There's only one thing I have to say to you."" "Come in." "Come in." ""There's only one thing I have to say to you."" "Ah, Plunkett, Incorporated." "Welcome to Bohemia, sir." "How do you do?" "Why, I'm getting on, sir, in my modest way." "And you?" "I'm well, thank you." "You're looking splendid." "That's a fetching tie, Mr. Plunkett, and these spats, very exciting." "What an ensemble." "But, personally, I don't like derbies." "They give a man that undertaker look." "My dear Mr. Chambers, I have come here to speak to you man-to-man." "My favorite type of conversation." "I wish to broach a rather delicate subject." "Oh, now, don't let's be delicate, Mr. Plunkett." "Let's be crude and objectionable, both of us." "One of the greatest handicaps to civilization, and I may say to progress, is the fact that people speak with ribbons on their tongues." "Delicacy, as the philosophers point out, is the, uh, banana peel under the feet of truth." "And, uh, if you've come up here to raise a fuss about Gilda, this derby is a thing of the past." "Mr. Chambers..." "Mr. Chambers, I don't wish you to misunderstand me." "I am not Miss Farrell's husband, nor her fiance, in any shape, form, or manner." "I see." "Her devoted friend." "Yes." "For five years." "Her guide, I take it, and counselor." "Yes." "Her protector." "Exactly." "In other words, Mr. Plunkett, you, uh, you never got to first base." "Yes." "I'll overlook that insult." "Thank you." "Will you be seated?" "Mr. Chambers, your attentions to Gilda are undesirable." "Has she been complaining?" "No." "Oh, good." "Good." "I'm very busy, Mr. Plunkett." "I, uh, I'm creating." "Mr. Chambers, there's only one thing I have to say to you." "You know what it is?" "Yes." "Immorality may be fun, but it isn't fun enough to take the place of 100 percent virtue and three square meals a day." "Now, wait a minute." "Immorality may be fun..." "But it isn't fun enough to take the place..." "Of 100 percent virtue..." "And three square meals a day." "Superb." "Furthermore..." "Uh-uh, not another word." "That-that's a curtain." "...three square meals a day." "And Bassington exits." "Mr. Chambers..." "Listen to me, Plunkett, Incorporated." "I'm in love with Gilda." "I adore her." "I'm quite insane about her." "I love you, Gilda." "That's sweet to hear." "You know, sometimes I wonder what I see in you." "You don't appreciate me, and you know nothing about art." "Maybe you love me because I'm an imbecile." "It must be something like that." "I really love you." "I'm amazed at myself." "It's sincere, that's what gets my goat." "Gilda." "I'm very fond of you." "Oh, you're fond of me, huh?" "Mmm-hmm." "I don't like that." "I know what's the trouble." "I swear I'll break his neck." "Gilda, you're mine." "Tell him to get out of your life and stay out or I'll cut him to bits." "Who?" "That pal of yours, Max Plunkett." "Oh." "Well, what's the verdict?" "Are you jealous?" "No, no, I'm not jealous." "The whole point is I... that I just don't want any competition." "It belittles me in my own eyes." "It... it interferes with my work." "I..." "I can't paint when I'm worried." "All right, I'll tell Max." "See that you do, understand?" "Yes, sir." "Gilda." "Now please go." "I'll see you tomorrow." "Tomorrow my life begins." "Hello, Mr. Plunkett." "Hello." "Oh, Mr. Curtis." "How are you?" "I'm well, thank you." "Goodnight, Mr. Plunkett." "Uh, just a minute." "What are you doing here?" "At the moment, I am leaving." "I mean, uh, you've seen Miss Farrell?" "Yes, I have seen Gilda." "Well..." "She's expecting you." "She has some news for you." "Mr. Curtis, I wish to, uh, broach a rather delicate matter." "It concerns Gilda." "Sit down." "Shoot." "Mr. Curtis, what is your annual income, in round figures?" "In round figures, zero." "May I ask what you live on?" "Nothing." "I survive by miracles." "Mr. Curtis, I must ask you man-to-man to discontinue your attentions to Gilda." "Now you're making very unbecoming faces, Mr. Plunkett." "She doesn't need you." "Guess again!" "Mr. Curtis, there's only one thing I have to say to you." "Immorality may be fun, but it isn't fun enough to take the place of 100 percent virtue and three square meals a day." "So, this is the way you talk to a man who wears Kaplan and McGuire unión suits?" "Mr. Plunkett, I shall report you to your clients immediately." "Good night, sir." "Yesterday it was Tom." "Yes." "Today it's George." "Yes." "Okay." "Hoodlums." "Artistic bums." "Both of them put together aren't worth a dime." "Gilda, no one knows better than you how unselfish I've been in all matters pertaining to you." "You've been nice." "I've been marvelous." "No, just nice." "Gilda, I've been your friend for five years..." "And I want you to remain my friend for the next 50 years, so please shut up." "Max, have you ever been in love?" "This is no time to answer that." "Have you ever felt your brain catch fire and a curious, dreadful thing go right through your body, down, down to your very toes, and leave you with your ears ringing?" "That's abnormal." "Well, that's how I felt just before you came in." "Yes?" "How'd you feel yesterday, after your promenade with Tom?" "Just the opposite." "It started in my toes and came up, up, up very slowly until my brain caught fire." "But the ringing in the ears was the same." "Hello." "Hello." "Did you go out for the laundry?" "Hardly." "Why not?" "Two cans of sardines, 5 francs." "Madame Poperino, blackmail, 7.50 francs." "No laundry." "That's fine." "I haven't got a clean shirt to my name." "Clean shirt?" "What's up, a romance?" "I'm not talking about pajamas." "I'm talking about a clean shirt." "I don't want to go around looking like a rag picker." "I'm talking about a white shirt, a shirt without a spot, without any holes that won't fall apart when you unbutton your coat." "How old is the laundress?" "Hmm, about 45." "A young 45?" "I don't know." "She goes barefoot." "She's rather plump, a little soapy." "But a very interesting moustache." "Very charming, very charming." "Not my type." "Moustache or no moustache, I need a clean shirt for tomorrow." ""End of Act 1." "Curtain."" "Don't read it, I know it by heart." "You remember where Bassington has found out that Edgar was the man on the fire escape?" "All right, shoot." "There's a pause." ""Edgar smiles maddeningly."" "Go on." "Go on." ""Bassington plays with his beard" ""in order to cover his emotion." ""Edgar speaks:" ""'I'm afraid, Bassington, that you are right, but nonetheless boring.'" ""Bassington studies his fingernails" ""like a man of the world, crosses to left." ""Edgar continues strumming his mandolin." ""Bassington, resuming with his beard." ""'I have only one thing to say to you." ""'Lmmorality may be fun," ""'but it's not fun enough to take the place of 100 percent virtue 'and three square meals a day."'" "What's the matter?" "So, double-crossing me, huh?" "What are you buzzing about?" "You didn't write that speech alone, and I know where you got it." "Well, if you think..." "Don't try to lie out of it!" "He was in here, Mr. Plunkett." "And it isn't difficult to guess why he was here, either." "So, you've been making love to Gilda." "Now, listen, if you..." "I know!" "100 percent virtue and three square meals a day!" "Wait a minute." "So you've heard that speech before." "Where did you hear that speech before?" "Hmm." "I see." "Clean shirt, eh?" "So he caught you with Gilda." "It's a lie!" "He didn't catch me." "Very pretty work." "True-blue George." "Look who's talking about true-blue." "I ought to bust you right in that ugly pan of yours!" "Let's behave like civilized people." "It's quite apparent, beyond any question, that you behaved in this matter as a rather common, ordinary rat." "I'm leaving." "Where's my suitcase?" "Or have you sold it to somebody?" "This is a little silly, after 11 years of friendship." "You should have considered that earlier." "Do you mind a personal question?" "Not at all." "Are you pretty hard hit?" "That's none of your business." "Are you?" "Likewise." "What a pity we had to fall in love with the same girl." "Charming, isn't she?" "Rather." "Nice eyes." "Of a sort." "Well, I guess we're through." "Looks like it." "Curious to have a little bit of feminine fluff breaking up our friendship." "Sad." "Quite a dilemma." "I wonder if she's worth it." "I wonder." "In fact, I doubt it." "There's only one thing we know about her." "She's full of deceit." "She's trying to hang it on both of us." "We shouldn't let her get away with it." "She's a troublemaker." "We ought to put our foot down." "Right." "We mustn't let her break it up." "I've been listening to your half-witted dramas for 11 years." "And I've grown cockeyed looking at your Humpty Dumpty pictures." "Do we give up all this for a girl we met on a train?" "Third class!" "No woman's worth it." "Absolutely not." "No more clean shirts?" "We ignore her, 50-50." "Fine." "Sacrifice helps an artist." "Exactly." "The sorrows of life are the joys of art." "I don't think we ought to discuss her anymore." "Right." "If the occasión arises which requires our mentioning her at all, we'll refer to her as, uh, Miss Farrell." "It'll make the whole thing more impersonal." "Exactly." "Say, George, did... did you really sell my suitcase?" "Yeah." "Okay." "Telephone?" "Uh-uh." "Answer it if you wish." "Go ahead." "I..." "I..." "I trust you." "Thanks." "Hello." "Yes?" "Oh, uh, just a second." "It's, uh, it's Miss Farrell." "What do you want, Gilda?" "I beg your pardon." "I see." "Uh, I see." "Well, just a second, please." "She wants to come up tomorrow." "Tell her absolutely no." "Okay." "Uh, well..." "Uh, hold the wire." "Miss Farrell's a little late." "Hardly matters." "I think we ought to be polite." "I'm going to assume a very nonchalant attitude." "Don't forget." "Nonchalant." "How do you do?" "How do you do?" "How do you do?" "How do you do?" "How do you do?" "Tommy, you're such a child." "I'm so nervous." "Couldn't we all be a little bit more nonchalant?" "I came here to make a confessión, a confessión hard to make at 11:00 in the morning." "George." "Yes, please?" "Sit down here." "Shall I leave the room?" "No, please." "George, dear George." "When I let you make love to me yesterday, I didn't tell you something." "I didn't tell you that the day before, Tom and I had..." "Did he tell you?" "No." "Thank you, Tommy." "Very welcome." "George, promise me you won't start smashing furniture." "I'm more than fond of Tommy." "I'm sorry, old man." "Quite all right." "Thank you." "Okay!" "But..." "Tom, when we were in the park, do you remember?" "Very well." "I didn't tell you." "That morning I made a date with George for the next evening in my house, and I didn't call it off." "And I want to be truthful..." "I see." "In other words, you're very fond of George." "More than fond." "A thing happened to me that usually happens to men." "You see, a man can meet two, three, or even four women, and fall in love with all of them, and then, by a process of interesting elimination, he is able to decide which one he prefers." "But a woman must decide purely on instinct, guesswork, if she wants to be considered nice." "Oh, it's quite all right for her to try on 100 hats before she picks one out..." "Very fine, but which chapeau do you want, Madame?" "Both." "You see, George, you're sort of like a ragged straw hat with a very soft lining." "A little bit out of shape, very dashing to look at, and very comfortable to wear." "And you, Tom." "Chic, piquant, perched over one eye, and has to be watched on windy days." "And both so becoming." "Oh." "Oh, I'm the most unhappy woman in the world." "Poor girl, she's in rather a tough spot." "Hmm." "George." "Dear George, there's no use pretending you could make me forget Tom." "I'd miss him." "You would not." "But for the sake of argument, okay." "And Tom, if I went with you up hill and down dale, he would haunt me like a bogeyman." "It's a pitiful situation." "Well, if it'll make you happy, I'm willin' to step out." "Never mind the grandstand gesture." "I know how you'd step out, with a club!" "On the other hand, if you feel that you can't get along without her, it wouldn't be the first sacrifice I've made for you." "What sacrifice?" "What have you ever done for me?" "Look who's talkin', little Rollo!" "Why, you're the most self-centered, egotistical double-crosser I ever knew!" "Now, listen, if I could..." "Shh." "There you have it." "You hate him, he hates you, and you both end up by hating me." "Boys, let's sit down." "Now let's talk it over from every angle, without any excitement, like a disarmament conference." "Well?" "What do you think?" "I think it can be worked out, providing..." "Yes, you're right." "Providing." "Well, boys, it's the only thing we can do." "Let's forget sex." "Okay." "Agreed." "It may be a bit difficult in the beginning." "But it can be worked out." "Oh, it'll be grand." "Saves lots of time." "And confusión." "We're going to concentrate on work." "Your work." "My work doesn't count." "I think both you boys have a great deal of talent, but too much ego." "You spend one day working, and a whole month bragging." "Gentlemen, there are going to be a few changes." "I'm going to jump up and down on your ego." "I'm going to criticize your work with a baseball bat." "I'll tell you everyday how bad your stuff is till you get something good, and if it's good, I'm going to tell you it's rotten till you get something better." "I'm going to be a mother of the arts." "No sex." "Uh-uh." "It's a gentleman's agreement." "Rotten, eh?" "Listen, my dear girl, when it comes to playwriting, you don't know your... your dear little elbow from a barrel of flour." "The third act is marvelous." "I've never written anything better." "It's rotten." "Fortunately, I know that intellectually, you're still in rompers." "You should have realized by now, my dear, that I hate stupidity masquerading as criticism." "Rotten." "I've had enough of that." "You're ruining me." "You're ruining my work." "You're just being cheap and malicious." "Rotten." "Very well." "It's the last time you're going to tell me that." "Goodbye, my dear." "...a complete flop in London." "I'm sorry, but I don't..." "I beg your pardon." "Forgive me for entering unannounced." "Mr. Douglas is very busy." "So they were kind enough to tell me downstairs." "Mr. Douglas?" "Yes." "Mr. Douglas, I consider you the greatest theatrical producer in London." "In fact, in the world." "My dear young lady, what precisely do you want?" "Well, I read your list of productions for the next London season." "Yes?" "They're very bad." "But believe me, there's no need for you to despair." "The situation isn't entirely black, Mr. Douglas." "Have you ever heard of a playwright called Thomas Chambers?" "No, never." "You've never read a play called Good Night, Bassington?" "Heavens, no." "Never." "Well, here it is." "Read it." "I'm sure you'll adore it." "It's a woman's play." "Goodbye." "Those faking art dealers!" "Peanut brains!" "Parasites!" "Maybe he's right." "Maybe they are..." "No, they are not!" "I don't know, Gilda." "I know." "Those paintings are great, and don't let anybody tell you they aren't." "Three of 'em have." "Well, they're all fools." "They'll be breaking their necks to get hold of your work." "Maybe when I'm dead." "Stop it." "If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me." "I'm no good." "It's getting obvious." "George, you're a fine painter." "You're an artist." "You're going to be one of the great ones." "And if you lie down in the middle of the road," "I'll hate you." "Well, friends, the gentleman addressing you is none other than the illustrious Mr. Thomas B. Chambers, the new dramatic thunderbolt of the London theater." "Good Night, Bassington has been accepted." "You don't mean it." "Did you sign the contract?" "In letters of fire." "100 pounds advance." "It's colossal." "The Bank of England?" "Uh-huh." "That's a good bank, huh?" "It's the best." "By the way, Gilda, I, uh, I neglected to mention" "I'm supposed to go to London." "To London?" "Tonight." "Uh, Mr. Douglas seems to think that I might be of great help during rehearsals." "You know, half the play depends on someone..." "Bringing out its brittle quality." "Oh, yes." "What do you..." "what do you think?" "Should I go?" "Well, you could do a lot in London, no doubt about that." "And it would help the publicity, of course." "But on the other hand, if you stayed here, you could finish your new play." "And yet, you might make some valuable connections in London." "Oh, but I'm just wondering if you could do as good work in the midst of all that hullabaloo, as you could if you stayed here." "Oh, well, Tom, I..." "Oh, Gilda" "I couldn't do good work anywhere without you, and you know it." "And if there should be any curtain calls after that third act, how could I take the bows alone?" "You're nice, Tom." "I'm not going!" "Well, drop me a line from London, old boy, will you?" "Righto." "Step a little more forward, Mr. Chambers." "That's it." "Smile, please." "Take off your hat, Mr. Douglas." "Oh." "That's it." "Hold it." "Well, in five weeks, you'll be taking the same train and the three of us will sit in the Royal Box at the opening." "Goodbye, boy." "Goodbye, pal." "Goodbye, Gilda." "Keep that old typewriter of mine booted and spurred." "I will." "So long." "You've had enough today." "Please." "Okay, teacher." "I'll have to sew a button on there." "Gilda, I'm a pretty gloomy guy tonight." "I have an idea I'm going to be rather bad company." "Why don't you... why don't you go out to a movie or something?" "Tarzan is playing at the Adelphia Theater." "Go on, like a good girl." "Everything seems different, doesn't it?" "You'd better go, Gilda, to Tarzan." "I fancy this, um, what you might call tensión, would keep up for some weeks." "Wouldn't it be wiser if I moved to a hotel?" "Yes, ma'am." "I love you, Gilda." "Why lie about it?" "You can't change love by shaking hands with somebody." "We're unreal, the three of us, trying to play jokes on nature." "This is real." "A million times more honest than all the art in the world." "I love you." "It's true we have a gentleman's agreement, but unfortunately, I am no gentleman." "My dearest Gilda, and dear George." "This is the first letter I've ever dictated, so kindly overlook its correct spelling and perfect punctuation." "An honest heart still beats beneath." "Exclamation point, dash, paragraph." "Well, pals, you'll be interested to know that all London is agog with my wit and charm." "Underline charm." "Period." "Lady Upterdyke, weight 203 ringside," "has smuggled me into her cage of trained social lions." "Here I am on exhibition nightly, up to my neck in duchesses." "Period." "The play, by the way, is in its second week of rehearsals and looks hotsy-totsy." "I beg your pardon, sir." "Hotsy-totsy?" "Yes, hotsy-totsy." "And yet, dear friends, these triumphs leave me sad." "In the midst of all this pomp and glitter," "I always remember that our play was written on that old Remington No. 2 typewriter, and on a never-to-be-forgotten diet of frankfurters." "Sir?" "My heart is in the highlands of Montmartre." "And the..." "Come in." "And the night finds me pale and thoughtful, waiting..." "And the night finds me pale and thoughtful, waiting for the end of my exile, when the three of us," "Athos, Porthos and Mademoiselle d'Artagnan will sit in the Royal Box at the opening..." "Start the letter over." "Dear George and Gilda," "good luck." "As ever, Tom." "Good evening, Mr. Chambers." "Good evening." "Good evening." "Good evening." "Good evening." "How's the house tonight?" "Sold out." "Advance sale?" "Colossal." "Audience behaving?" "Angelic." "Applauding?" "Terrific." "Thanks." "How are the programs selling tonight?" "Enormous." "Busy?" "Tremendous." "And what were you doing on the fire escape?" "Cooling off." "And what was your mandolin doing in my bed?" "I must ask you to leave my mandolin out of this." "Edgar, I have only one thing to say to you:" "Immorality may be fun, but not fun enough to take the place of 100 percent virtue and three square meals a day!" "I really enjoyed that show very much." "How do you do, Mr. Plunkett?" "How do you do?" "Oh, Mr. Chambers." "Well, hello." "Yes." "That's a very funny play you've got in there, in spots." "Thank you." "Thank you." "How-how's Paris?" "Oh, great." "Fine." "Advertising going bigger than ever." "The French are getting billboard crazy." "I see." "And how, uh, how's Paris otherwise?" "Oh, you don't know what happened?" "No, what?" "Well, it's, uh, quite a story." "The, uh, French government objected to showing Napoleon in unión suits." "I was up against it for a while, but I changed it to Julius Caesar." "I'll tell you something." "Outsold Napoleon two to one." "Just goes to show." "Mmm-hmm." "Anything... anything else going on in Paris?" "No." "No." "Well, I'm glad I ran into you." "Yes." "Pretty good play for the money." "Oh, Mr. Chambers, I almost forgot." "Best regards from George and Gilda." "Oh, thanks." "Thanks." "How is George?" "We're friends." "As you know, at first I was inclined to withhold my approval of the whole thing, but you know how much I like Gilda." "It's true I didn't get to first base, but lots of other people didn't either." "Uh, is George, uh, is George getting... getting along nicely?" "Oh, great." "Great." "He painted me." "A portrait, from here up." "That put him over in the art world." "Yes, sir." "And how... how is Gilda?" "Fine." "When they, uh, first broached the project of painting me," "I put my foot down but Gilda..." "How is she?" "Fine." "It turned out to be a great painting." "It's a masterpiece." "Looks exactly like me." "It's called Man with Derby." "Yes, sir." "French museum bought it." "Snapped it right up." "I'm hanging on exhibition on the South wall." "Attracts lots of people." "Yes, sir." "Tsk, is, uh, is Gilda happy?" "Is she..." "Oh, she's just crazy about that painting." "Well, I'm glad I ran into you." "I don't want to miss this last act." "Yes." "My things, please." "Terrific tonight, isn't it?" "Rather." "You want to talk to Mr. Curtis, don't you?" "Yes." "I'm sorry, but Mr. Curtis is not at home." "Oh, what time do you expect him back?" "Mr. Curtis is out of town." "That's too bad." "Something important?" "Rather." "Well, I'll let you talk to his secretary." "To his secretary?" "Yes, to his secretary." "Please." "Hello." "Mr. Curtis's secretary?" "The same." "My card." ""Thomas B. Chambers." "London's leading playwright and foremost wit."" "Come on, it doesn't say that." "It should." "Hello, you old vampire, you!" "You hooligan!" "You Benedict Arnold." "You..." "Shall we be seated?" "Hmm, I like your suit." "Thanks very much." "I'm sorry George isn't here." "He's in Nice." "He's painting a Mrs. Butterfield." "Really?" "A rotund but noble creature from Des Moines." "Des Moines, Iowa." "Yes." "Oh, it's so good to see you." "Is it?" "I've so much to..." "To tell me." "Yes." "I can imagine." "Oh, Tommy, if you've forgiven George, why not me?" "We did the same thing." "Not at all." "George betrayed me for you." "Without wishing to flatter you, I understood that." "I can still understand it." "But you betrayed me for George." "An incredible choice." "Tommy." "You didn't keep it oiled." "I did for a while." "The keys are rusty." "The shift is broken." "But it still rings." "It still rings." "Does it?" "Oh, Mr. Plunkett." "Gilda." "Hello, Gilda." "Hello." "I must get in touch with George immediately." "I just got back from London." "Dropped into the Luxembourg Museum with some friends and big results for George." "I'm glad." "A commissión for two portraits." "Mrs. Olsen of Buffalo." "You know the Buffalo Olsens." "The tomato juice man." "The tomato juice man." "Both are willing to pay as high as..." "What's the matter?" "Is George back?" "Why didn't you tell me?" "He came unexpectedly this morning." "He did?" "George!" "Shh." "He's asleep." "He only arrived a couple of hours ago." "He had a dreadful night on the train." "You know, his old neuralgia's back." "Oh." "Well, you tell him to get in touch with me just as soon as he wakes up." "Goodbye." "Goodbye." "Thanks, Max." "Oh, I almost..." "Shh." "I almost forgot to tell you." "Guess who I saw in London?" "The King?" "No, no, no." "Tom Chambers." "Oh, how is he?" "Well, I wouldn't want George to hear this, but if you ask me, no good." "You made the right choice, all right, in a way." "That guy in there, 10 times as good." "Max, do me a favor." "Go away!" "I know you always had a soft spot for this fellow, Chambers." "Please, Max, I've a terrible headache." "Oh, what's the matter?" "Anything wrong?" "No, just one of my blue days." "Can I do anything for you?" "No, Max, please!" "Well, uh, don't tell George that I even mentioned Tom." "I wouldn't want to be mixed up..." "You know how it is?" "It's a rather delicate matter." "And you don't want to broach it." "No." "Then don't." "Goodbye, Max." "Goodbye." "Thanks." "Why don't you try some aspirin?" "Oh, you're sweet, Max." "But aspirin won't help this time." "Nothing serious, I hope?" "I hope not." "Well, if anything should happen..." "I'll come to you and ask for your advice." "Will you?" "Always, Max." "Thank you, Gilda." "Thank you." "Goodbye." "Breakfast is ready." "No orange juice?" "We never have any." "Darling, will you remember after this?" "Orange juice every morning." "Large glass." "Every morning?" "Except Sunday." "Uh, baked apple." "It's going to make a big revolution in my menu." "The eggs are just right." "You can have mine, too." "No eggs for Gilda?" "No." "Conscience bothering you?" "No." "Confused?" "Very much so." "Gilda." "Yes?" "Is George still given to smashing things?" "We have to tell him the truth regardless of what happens to the furniture." "I wonder if he'll hit me." "He was never very civilized." "You're right." "He is kind of... kind of barbaric." "You know, Gilda, we did a marvelous job on that third act." "I have a feeling that if we got together, collaborated on a note to leave behind, and really worked on it, it would not only be a very fine piece of literature, but it might save me a black eye." "No, no, I can't run away." "I don't know how I'm going to tell him." "I don't dare think." "I don't even know what I'm going to tell him." "Very simple." "You love me." "That's the only thing I'm sure of right now." "Let's forget the rest." "Let's not talk about it." "We've two more days." "Let's enjoy them." "Oh, my dear." "Tommy, I never forgot you." "In fact, you never left me." "You haunted me like a nasty ghost." "On rainy nights I could hear you moaning' down the chimney." "Tommy." "Tommy." "What do we do after lunch?" "We'll take a long walk for our digestion." "Yes, let's walk and walk until we're dead tired." "Gilda, I've got a better idea." "Let's stay home instead." "Well, London Louie, the old rat himself." "You phony playwright, how are you?" "I'm fine." "When did you arrive?" "Well, last night." "Boy, I can't tell you how..." "How are you, darling?" "Fine." "I forgot to kiss you." "You can blame him." "Well, how are you, pal?" "Ouch!" "Fine." "Lucky I walked out on the Butterfields." "What happened?" "Oh, a very involved argument about La Butterfield's double chin." "I said to her, "Madame, I am an artist, not a masseur."" "Up speaks Mr. Butterfield, and, uh..." "What are you doing in that suit?" "Tuxedo for breakfast, huh?" "Is that a new London custom?" "George." "Ah, I didn't ask you." "Well, Tom, you know what I'm thinking." "It's true." "George." "Shut up!" "That's one way of meeting the situation." "Shipping clerk comes home, finds missus with boarder." "He breaks dishes." "It's pure burlesque." "Then there's another way." "Intelligent artist returns unexpectedly, finds treacherous friends." "Both discuss the pros and cons of the situation in grownup dialogue." "High-class comedy, enjoyed by everybody." "And there's a third way." "I'll kick your teeth out, tear your head off, and beat some decency into you." "Cheap melodrama." "Very dull." "George, stop it." "Still very dull." "I suppose you feel sorry for him." "I feel sorry for you." "I'm sorry I hurt you, but it was inevitable." "Go on, get out of here!" "Both of you!" "It's hard to believe I..." "I loved you both." "Of either of you!" "Go on!" "Go with him in his top hat and fancy pants and silly name in lights, and good luck to both of you!" "The London train leaves at 4:00." "You'll be very happy." "I promise." "Thank you, Tom." "I'll pack." "Goodbye, George." "You did the right thing about the Butterfields." "And George, after I've gone, don't change." "Don't ever bow to double chins." "Stay an artist." "That's important." "In fact, the most important thing." "I didn't want to praise you in front of Gilda, but you certainly pack a wicked right." "A real wallop." "There are a number of things here which belong to her." "Oh, that's all right." "Never mind." "No, no, I don't want them." "Where shall I send them?" "Forward them in my name, care of the Cariton Theater, London." "And her mail?" "Same place." "I'll see that she gets it." "Anything else?" "Not that I can think of." "If anything should come up, will you be at this address?" "That's immaterial." "I don't wish to enter into any correspondence." "As you wish." "Better tell her to hurry up." "It's getting to be a strain." "Give her a chance to pack!" "Tell her to hurry up!" "All right." "Hurry up, Gilda!" "Hurry up, darling." "Here, you rattlesnake." "So that's how you feel?" "Yes, that's how I feel." "Understand?" "Perfectly." "I felt that way once." "Gilda, have you got room in your trunk?" "Here." "For you." "What's that?" "A note from Gilda." "Ha." ""Tommy, dear." ""I am running away because I am afraid" ""your house in London has a chimney, too," ""and I fancy on rainy nights I would hear..." ""And I fancy on rainy nights I would hear" ""that old devil, George, moaning." ""So be nice and let me be nice." "Maybe I'll like it." "Gilda."" "You think she'll come back?" "No." "Should we try to find her?" "What's the use?" "The mother of the arts wants to be a nice girl." "Tragic." "No, it's comic." "Two slightly used artists in the ashcan." "You'll get drunk." "It's the only sensible thing to do." "To Gilda." "To Gilda." "Would you care to hit me?" "Please help yourself." "Sorry." "I'm too high-class." "A gentleman, huh?" "To my fingertips." "May I refer you to a letter sent to you from London in a similar crisis?" "A very high-class document." "I could have enclosed some smallpox germs easily." "But you didn't." "Very considerate." "Let's drink to that." "To smallpox germs." "In Latin, variola cocci." "I think we're being very sensible." "Extremely." "Good for our livers." "Good for our immortal souls." "But bad for our stomachs." "That's loose thinking." "What's bad for your stomach may be highly entertaining for my stomach." "I'm glad the conversation has taken a scientific turn." "Oh, it's better than discussing G-Gilda." "We must forget Gilda." "Utterly." "Let's change the subject." "Right." "Let's talk about something entirely new." "Let's talk about ourselves." "Very interesting." "To ourselves." "No." "It's bad taste." "Well, we can't drink to nothing." "It's better than drinking to ourselves." "To nothing." "No!" "I refuse to be silly." "That's right." "Well, there must be a reason for drinking." "To, uh..." "No!" "I beg your pardon." "To Kaplan and McGuire." "Don't be hasty." "To Kaplan." "And now, to McGuire." "A letter to my mother." "Mrs. Oscar F. Plunkett, Utica, New York." "Dear Mama, I will arrive on the 25th of this month on the U.S. Liner S.S. Manhattan." "I will be accompanied by Miss Gilda Farrell." "Miss Gilda Farrell is the daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Anthony G. Farrell of Fargo, North Dakota." "Got the ring?" "Check." "Feel nervous, Max?" "No." "Had a fine nap." "Feel 100 percent." "How does it feel to be Mrs. Plunkett?" "Any different?" "Well, it feels like standing with your feet on the ground." "Peaceful, Max, and so secure." "You bet." "It's going to be nice to be a law-abiding citizen." "Gilda." "What lovely flowers." ""Strump and Egelbaur."" "Very fine people, Strump and Egelbaur." "Biggest cement people in town." "Oh." "Oh, you'll like 'em." "They sound adorable." "Gilda." "Yes, Max?" "Uh, now that it's all over, the excitement, etcetera," "I'd like to know, what's your attitude?" "My attitude?" "Well, toward what?" "I mean, do you love me?" "Oh, Max, people should never ask that question on their wedding night." "It's either too late or too early." "I'm your wife, Max." "That's well put." "Gilda, it's, uh, 9:30." "Oh, that late?" "Yes, and I have an appointment in the morning, 10:15 sharp." "Oh." "Beautiful." "Kaplan and McGuire!" "Your friends from now on as well as mine." "What did they do that for?" "Why, they want to remember us." "I think it's very nice of 'em." "This is no time for remembering." "It would have been much more tactful of them to forget." "I think it's offensive." "Oh, well, now, that's a closed chapter in your life." "Anyhow, you've nothing to worry about on that score." "I've forgiven you." "Forgiven me!" "For what?" "Oh, that's all right." "Well, I don't want to be forgiven!" "Well, I forgive you just the same." "It'll make you feel better." "It's their idea of a joke." "I can just see them sitting in China, laughing their heads off." "About what?" "It's a rotten trick." "It's cheap." "It shouldn't surprise you." "They never fooled me for a minute." "Hooligans." "Max, I don't care to discuss them at all." "But if you ever feel it's necessary to mention them, don't call them hooligans!" "Oh, well, of course, they have some fine qualities..." "Please stop talking about them!" "It's my wedding night." "Leave those two boys where they are, in China!" "I've an appointment tomorrow morning." "10:15 sharp." "It's important." "Hello, darling." "Hello." "Well, Gilda, great news for you." "Our party's in the bag." "Really?" "Yes, sir." "Guess what?" "I give up." "Mr. Egelbaur has accepted." "Is that good?" "Say, listen, I'll guarantee you one thing." "Let this party be a success, and inside of two weeks, we'll be invited to the Egelbaurs." "I see." ""An eye for an eye." "A tooth for a tooth."" "Oh, don't talk like that." "Strump and Egelbaur are figuring on the greatest publicity campaign in the history of cement." "Oh, what about the Strumps?" "Don't we have to invite them, too?" "Mr. Strump comes first." "Strump and Egelbaur." "No, no, no." "We can't have them at the same time." "They're not on speaking terms." "That's right." "I forgot about Mr. Strump and Mrs. Egelbaur." "Oh, don't mention that." "Don't even breathe it." "I won't." "You promise?" "Promise." "Word of honor?" "Cross my heart." "And please don't worry about the Strumps." "A week from Tuesday, we have the Strumps." "That's diplomacy." "And if this Strump party is a big social success, is there any chance we'll be invited to the Strumps?" "It's a cinch." "What a season." "Everybody, please." "Everybody who wants to play 20 questions, all in the living room." "Everybody who wants to play 20 questions, all in the living room." "Everybody who wants to play..." "Gilda." "What are you doing here?" "Just resting between rounds." "Oh, we're going to play 20 questions in the living room." "Mr. Egelbaur's requested it." "Oh, Max." "Oh, it's going to be great fun." "But I've had so much fun all evening." "It's almost too much for me." "Post office with Kaplan and McGuire." "Drop the handkerchief with the linoleum group..." "But Mr. Egelbaur..." "Well, I've just played going to Jerusalem with Mr. Egelbaur." "Now he wants to play 20 questions." "Oh, you've got to come." "There's no way of getting out of it." "All right." "We'll start right away." "Shh." "All right, Gilda." "Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?" "Are you expected?" "No." "Not exactly expected." "Anticipated, hoped for, and dreamed about." "Do you wish to see Mr. Plunkett?" "No!" "Positively no!" "Mrs. Plunkett, if you please." "Mrs. Plunkett is engaged in playing 20 questions." "She can't be disturbed." "Oh." "Oh, I see." "20 questions." "Hmm." "It makes it rather difficult." "Well, uh, what you say, Inspector?" "I beg your pardon." "This is Inspector Knox." "How do you do, sir?" "How do you do?" "Well, Sergeant, uh..." "Excuse me." "Sgt. O'Toole." "How do you do?" "How do you do, sir?" "Headquarters." "Shall I notify them?" "Oh, no, don't bother, please." "We'll, uh, we'll wait." "Any trouble?" "No, no, not at all." "Uh, we're only here in behalf of the Policeman's Benefit Ball." "About some tickets?" "Righto." "All right." "Wait, if you want to." "Well, Inspector, how did the butler strike you?" "A dual personality." "Hmm." "Shall we, uh, look over the premises?" "Righto, Sergeant." "We may run into some valuable clues." "Shall we start with the kitchen?" "No." "Let's begin with the boudoir." "Ah." "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?" "Animal." "Gilda." "I won't do it." "I guessed Mr. Egelbaur in 10 questions, and that's enough." "I'm worn out." "Gilda, I insist." "I won't do it." "You-you're ruining everything." "I don't care!" "I won't ask Mr. Egelbaur to sing." "All right, then I'll ask him myself." "Fine." "And you'll have to come and listen." "Nothing doing." "But he... he... he brought his music." "I'm not going to listen to that Egelbaur sing!" "I won't!" "I won't!" "I won't!" "Oh, please, Max, let me rest." "All right." "Get your rest." "Take two minutes, and come down." "Egelbaur." "# Egelbaur!" "#" "# Egelbaur!" "#" "# Egelbaur ##" "Well, dear me." "Look who's here." "How did you get in?" "Shall we tell her?" "I would." "We have nothing to conceal." "The stork brought us." "I..." "I thought you were in China." "We moved." "Shall we sit down?" "Yeah, please." "That's Tom." "And that's George." "And this is Gilda." "No, that's not Gilda." "That's Mrs. Plunkett." "No, that's Gilda." "Ah, let's see." "Well, there's a certain resemblance." "You're right." "It's Mrs. Plunkett." "But from here, from here she looks a teeny-weeny bit like Max." "Maybe it's Mr. Plunkett." "Well, I doubt it." "# Falling leaf #" "# And fading tree ##" "He really fell in the river?" "Feet first." "What's this?" "What's going on here?" "We have callers from China." "What are you doing here?" "Shh." "We're hiding from Mr. Egelbaur." "Shh." "Listen, this is no time for jokes." "I haven't invited you, I don't want you here, and neither does Gilda." "Uh, Gilda, you must come down." "Egelbaur's on his second song." "Egelbaur!" "Egelbaur!" "What am I gonna say?" "What am I gonna do?" "One moment, Mr. Plunkett." "Question." "Who is this Mr. Egelbaur?" "You see, Mr. Egelbaur is not only a first-rate singer, but he's also the head of Strump and..." "I want you two to leave these premises at once." "Well, Inspector, what do you think?" "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?" "Vegetable." "# Sky #" "# Goodbye #" "# Summer #" "# Goodbye, goodbye #" "# Goodbye ##" "Egelbaur!" "# Goodbye #" "You arranged all this." "You were expecting 'em." "Don't be silly." "I arranged nothing." "I knew nothing about it." "Well, how did they get here, then?" "The stork brought them." "Oh, I see." "I see what you mean." "Hooligans." "That's what they are and that's what they always will be!" "Maybe they are." "Maybe I'm a hooligan, too." "Maybe I want to be a hooligan." "No." "No, Gilda." "No." "No, you don't." "No." "Now, we've got to calm down." "You want a glass of water?" "No, thank you." "Now, I'm willing to drop the whole matter." "I forgive you." "Are you starting to forgive me again?" "Just relax and be a good girl." "I'll handle this." "Uh, you let me go down first and I'll sell them the idea that... that you've had an attack of hiccups." "And then two minutes later, you come down and tell Mr. Egelbaur..." "I'll tell him." "Yes." "You tell Mr. Egelbaur that you're extremely sorry." "Make a simple little apology, but sincere." "Say that you heard his singing all the way upstairs and even at that distance it was wonderful." "Now, listen, Plunkett, Incorporated." "You go to those customers of yours and give 'em a sales talk." "Sell them anything you want, but not me." "I'm fed up with underwear, cement, linoleum." "I'm sick of being a trademark married to a slogan!" "Gilda." "Don't you tell them I've got hiccups." "Tell them I've got the advertising blues, the billboard collywobbles!" "Slogans and sales talks morning, noon, and night, and not one human sound out of you and your whole flock of Egelbaurs!" "That's just a lot of words." "There's only one issue here." "If this Strump and Egelbaur deal is spoiled, I'll know just who to blame." "Where... where is everybody?" "I think they've all gone home." "Gone home?" "What for?" "Why?" "You should never have socked McGuire." "Socked McGuire?" "I admit I was a bit careless, but how should I know Kaplan would creep up in the back?" "That's partnership." "Kaplan?" "Creep up in the back?" "Yes." "But the real surprise of the evening was Egelbaur." "He starts slow." "But warms up." "Wonderful footwork." "What happened?" "Was there a fight?" "A marvelous fight!" "It was quite a demonstration." "Oh." "Gilda." "I know all about it." "I'm awfully sorry, Max, but it all can be remedied very easily." "We've got to do something about it." "Quite right." "But let me do it." "After all, it was my friends who caused the trouble and I'm to blame." "Well, what do you..." "Max, I'm going to make a great sacrifice for your business." "I'm going to leave you." "Leave me?" "You're crazy." "That won't help." "Oh, yes, it will." "Tremendously." "Now, tomorrow you put on your nicest derby and you go and call on your customers and tell them you've separated from your wife because of her connection with those two terrible wretches." "I guarantee you, you'll be considered the biggest martyr in the history of cement." "So, I see." "That's the way you feel about the matter." "Good old Max." "Cheer up." "You really haven't any complaints." "I've more than doubled your business since our bridal night." "And after I leave you, it's liable to triple." "That's all you really wanted, anyway." "Now, Gilda, be sensible." "That's Mr. Egelbaur." "Hello?" "Oh, hello, Mr. Egelbaur." "Well, how are you, Mr. Egelbaur?" "So..." "And poor Mrs. Egelbaur, how is she?" "Well, Mr. Egelbaur, you must realize that I had nothing to do with it whatsoever." "Goodbye, Max." "Gilda, just a minute." "Yes, Mr. Egelbaur." "Oh, I can explain everything to your fullest satisfaction." "I guarantee it." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Egelbaur." "Oh, that's big of you." "Tomorrow morning, 9:00 sharp." "Oh, you've made me a very happy man, Mr. Egelbaur." "Now we'll have some fun." "Back to Paris." "To the same old studio?" "To the same old dump." "And work!" "Great." "But you can't paint in that suit." "I'll burn it." "And you can't write in that top hat." "In the ashcan with it!" "Let's hear, Gilda." "Can you still say rotten?" "Rotten!" "Gilda, you gonna criticize us with that baseball bat of yours?" "Till you say uncle." "Gilda." "Dear critic." "But, boys, this is very important." "There's one thing that has to be understood." "I know." "Yes, we know." "It's a gentleman's agreement."