[BOMBS EXPLODING]
I'm Sylvia Satterthwaite.
Yes.
My name is...
[MAN COUGHS]
CHRISTOPHER: My name is...
[SOLDIERS GROANING AND COUGHING]
[BOMB EXPLODES]
I took the liberty of keeping back for you some lamb cutlets.
- Supplies have been... - Oh, you're very good to me, Mr. Penny.
- So far I have the plovers' eggs... - Mm-hm.
Orange marmalade, one game pie...
one pork pie, the strong cheddar.
- And, oh, I don't know, a Dundee cake. - All to go to Grays Inn...
with your regular order, Mrs. Tietjens?
No, delivered to Captain Hans Von Grunwald-Merks...
Alexandra Palace.
Ha, ha.
I know. They've turned it into a prisoner-of-war camp for officers.
Yes, I remember the captain. From Munich, I believe.
Isn't it ridiculous?
And a tin of toffees.
Thank you very much.
Sardines.
The butcher is still being beastly.
I thought that now Edward was in minesweepers...
instead of Lewes Jail.
We should move to London anyway.
I need to be available to the critics and the journalists for my novel...
and you need a job.
I will write to Mr. Tietjens and ask him if he can do something.
How can Mr. Tietjens do anything? And why should he?
Don't you think he's got enough to do murdering German soldiers...
- for no good reason? - Meant his father, of course.
Mr. Tietjens.
- Does Christopher call you Miss Wannop? - What else would he call me?
- It's you he's pals with. - All right, well, don't get upset.
Why shouldn't I? The war's turned decent people into beasts.
Ordinary people like Mr. Hedges, the butcher.
You can have my sardines.
No, thank you.
Oh, Mrs. Duchemin telephoned.
Apparently her husband is about to be discharged from the asylum.
He can't be. He's dangerous.
Cured. Sane as sixpence.
Naturally, she didn't sound too pleased.
Really, the vanity of those people.
Self, self, self.
- What people? - Why, the doctors, of course.
Duchemin was perfectly happy in the asylum.
Beautiful gardens. He wanted for nothing.
Now how am I going to...?
- Yes, I see. - No, you don't.
You've seen Vincent's rooms.
It costs money to make the right impression.
How am I going to account to my husband upstairs?
Oh, how much did you...?
[WHISPERS] A lot.
[IN NORMAL VOICE] Vincent has a position to keep up now...
since he's been honored by His Majesty.
[WATER TRICKLING]
As a companion of the Order of the Bath...
- he has been raised... - Edith.
- Is he in the bath? - You obviously haven't understood a thing.
[EDITH GASPS]
[BOMBS EXPLODING]
[SOLDIERS GROANING]
[NURSES CHATTERING]
[GROANS]
[BOMBS CONTINUE EXPLODING]
Get down! Get down!
[BOTH GRUNTING]
NURSE: Stop him, someone! MEDIC: Get off.
NURSE: Get him off him!
SOLDIER: You get down!
MEDIC: You'll be all right, sir.
You'll be all right.
[SOLDIER WAILS]
[CHRISTOPHER COUGHING]
[CHRISTOPHER PANTING]
Would you mind telling me where I am...
and how long I've been here?
What...?
What is my name?
Good morning, Brown lie.
Did you sleep well?
- No. - Oh, dear.
Are we in a mood today?
- Why did you lock your door? - Oh, was that you?
Who did you think it was, an Irish thug?
- Well, it's no good talking to you. - What did you ask me down for?
Not to have my doorknob rattled at 2 in the morning.
Sylvia, you know how I feel about you.
I asked you down because you boodle petrol for your car...
and to make up a four after dinner and be pleasant company for my mother...
who, by the way, is not running a house of assignation.
- I swear, if you'd agree to marry me... - And, as you just reminded me...
- | already have a husband. - I mean it, Sylvia.
If you promised to divorce and marry me, I would wait, gladly.
I would be patient.
It's all your fault, you know.
Being so sweet to me when you want to be and for giving me hope.
Can I hope?
My darling, I love you like...
Dash it, I wish I were one of those poetical types.
Oh, do try.
What do you love me like?
Like...
Like anything.
I love you like anything, Sylvia.
You're irresistible.
But it's no good. As a Catholic, I can't divorce.
And even if I could, Christopher has never given me any ground.
- I wouldn't be too sure about that. - But I am sure.
Christopher is the straightest man I know.
He makes me want to scream.
Oh, would you look at herself? Penthesilea to the life.
- Wouldn't you say so, Lord Brown lie? - Morning, Father.
I suppose you think that because you're a priest...
you can say things I'd horsewhip any other man for.
Your mama tells me you might know the whereabouts of a good map I recall...
six inch to the mile, showing footpaths and the like.
- Where would I find such a thing? - In the window seat.
Is it to send to Germany?
CONSETT: There are two battalions of the Irish volunteers out there...
fighting the Germans.
Hmm. No.
'Tis a nice long solitary walk, that's what I'm thinking of.
With a packed lunch, maybe. That's my plan for today.
Well...
that's not what they say about your husband at the club.
- SYLVIA: Hmm. And what do they say? - Ask Paul Sandbach, for one.
But I'm asking you.
Your husband is debauched.
His pal Macmaster keeps a woman.
They share right under your nose, if you want to know.
[LAUGHS]
They were seen on a train going at it like monkeys.
Who were?
[BOTH PANTING]
BROWNLIE: Tietjens and that woman.
On a train coming down from Scotland.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
They were seen by a whole crowd of us who had been at Westershire's.
[EDITH SOBBING]
Macmaster and Mrs... Oh, I forget her name...
had been caught out at a hotel in Scotland...
and Christopher was rescuing her.
He was being gallant.
So you'd better stop spreading lies about my husband.
Then ask your husband about the Wannop girl, I dare you.
I don't know any Wannop. And you're only making it worse for yourself.
- Let go. - Twenty-three and fresh as paint.
Everyone knows Tietjens has been besotted with her...
ever since you went off with Potty Perowne.
It is quite wrong of Sylvia to keep her hunter...
when every decent animal in the country has been taken by the army.
She's making me look unpatriotic.
- Is that him? - Yes, sir.
MAN: Taking pictures of the shoreline, bold as brass.
Do you hear from your boy much?
TIETJENS: Which one?
No, anyway.
- Christopher. - Uh-huh.
A bit of a rip, is he?
Not that I know.
He's liaison officer with the French artillery.
No, he isn't.
- TIETJENS: Hmm? - He went native.
- Sent back to the lines. - TIETJENS: Ah.
The French wanted us to send out more of our territorials...
but Kitchener said he needs them here in case the Germans invade.
The Germans can't invade if we keep them busy where they are.
That's what your boy told Kitchener's man.
- TIETJENS: Did he? Heh. - Mm.
TIETJENS: Damn fool.
- Look here. - Hmm?
There's some talk at the club against your boy.
His wife's pro-German, they say.
And he's overstretched himself.
Bit of a rip altogether.
Oh, young Brown lie seems to know a lot about it.
I wouldn't know how.
Does your boy bank with him?
Of course he does. The Brown lies are the family bankers.
Ah.
If I had known my eldest wasn't going to sire...
I'd have looked at the young and better.
I'll let his brother ask about.
See what's what.
MARK: Good morning.
- Anything in the paper? - No.
The interesting news is never in the papers.
[DOOR OPENS THEN CLOSES]
I heard last week that Algy Hyde had sold his wife to General Cranshaw...
for a commission in the Blues.
But you may look in vain in the newspapers.
It came in my post.
We who are doing work of national importance have to put up...
with the sex fury of debutants...
whose desires can't be accommodated under wartime conditions.
Ruggles, you know my young brother, Christopher?
I met him once before he went out. He was insolent.
You might pick up what you can about him and let me know.
Glad to.
VINCENT: Ah. The funeral baked meats. Ha, ha.
EDITH: Guggums.
I'm in mourning.
I'm sorry, Guggums.
You do see, don't you?
It doesn't look well for a single man not to be in France.
People don't understand I'm doing vital war work.
- No. Yes. - And now that I'm married, I can keep...
Out of the trenches.
- Keep my post at the department. - Clever, Guggums.
To my dear husband.
To my wife.
I'm going to be working in London too.
I've got a job as a school games mistress.
To games and mistresses.
Guggums.
Tactness.
Ignore him.
Excuse me.
[BREATHING DEEPLY]
OFFICER;: First-class ticket.
One-way single to Waterloo.
Hand this in to the RAMC duty officer.
- He'll take over. - Sir.
[SIGHS]
Would you mind telling me what actually happened to you?
Something burst near me in the dark.
I don't remember what I did. I remember being...
in the casualty clearing station not knowing my name.
Your friends were dropping bombs on the hospital huts.
You might not call them my friends.
I still wear my St. Anthony...
to look after you. See?
I beg your pardon.
One gets into a loose way of speaking.
Then some people carried pieces of a nurse into the hut.
Oh.
Christopher.
You can't possibly conceive of the quantity of explosives...
the armies throw at each other for each man killed.
Shells make a continuous noise sometimes like an enormous machine breaking apart.
Other times, they come whistling towards you...
in a thoughtful sort of a way and then go crump...
and the screw cap flies off, hurtling through the air screaming.
There's one kind of shell...
which comes with a crescendo like an express train only faster.
Another kind which makes a noise like tearing calico, louder and louder.
The largest kind are the ones which burst in the sky...
and make a double crack like wet canvas being shaken up by a giant.
Such immense explosions to Kill...
such small, weak animals.
I have to report to a tin hut on Eating Common.
- Oh, lie down. - No, no, no. No, it's true.
The War Office now has an outpost at Eating.
I don't care.
But I have to go to the camp depots.
They want me to give lectures to soldiers.
I'm so fond of you and Christopher...
who, thank God, I hear is safe.
He was not wounded, luckily, only concussed.
Thank you, Lady Glorvina.
Well, a fresh start, then.
Mm.
I'll give you an address where you can buy hand-knitted socks and mittens...
10 present as your own work to some charity...
- for distribution to our soldiers. - I'll do nothing of the sort. What an idea.
The idea, Sylvia...
is for you to engage in an act of public patriotism...
to offset your exploits with the Esterhazys...
and the Grunwald-Merkses, which have pretty well done for Christopher.
Do you mean to say that those unspeakable swine...
think I'm pro-German because I sent toffees...
It's Christopher that suffers.
He hasn't got on the way a man of his brilliance should have got on.
A friend of his came to see me, a Mr. Ruggles.
He's something about the court.
He came to ask me whether something might be done for Christopher.
It's almost as if Christopher has a black mark against him.
That's how Mr. Ruggles put it.
And I'm the black mark, I suppose?
Do you know Major Drake?
Gerald Drake?
I used to.
[BOTH PANTING]
Before my marriage. Why?
He's an intelligence officer.
Major Drake told Ruggles...
he's marked Christopher's file not to be entrusted with confidential work.
Christopher is the last decent man in England.
How dare they put their knife into him?
He's mine.
There's an Irish priest caught spying for the enemy.
His trial was kept secret.
Father Consett.
Almost part of the family.
Let's see.
On a train coming down from Scotland.
Lady Claudine saw them.
So did General Campion.
Brown lie painted an unpretty picture.
The money his mother left him...
must have gone mostly to set her up with Macmaster.
God only knows what arrangement they make over her.
What else?
Sylvia's son is probably the result of an affair...
before the marriage.
A man who's a member here.
Good God.
MARK: I'm sorry to put all this on you.
But you want to know, I suppose.
Go on.
And then, of course, Christopher took her back after the Perowne business.
Broke his mother's heart.
Heh. Ruggles says, "Christopher is willing to sell his wife for money or favors."
I kept him short.
I let him go to the devil.
As for his career, he's written off as more or less a French spy.
At least they're our allies.
But the worser part is he got mixed up with a young woman.
Apparently a pacifist suffragette type.
Gilbert Wannop's daughter.
My God.
- Christopher and... - At least five people told Ruggles...
that he gave the girl a bastard before the war.
That's enough.
[SIGHS]
And Groby will go to a papist child from the wrong side of the blanket.
That's bitter, I don't mind saying.
We've held Groby...
in the English Church through 10 reigns.
And I let it slip.
CHRISTOPHER: Father.
I...
[GUNSHOT]
[PHONE RINGING]
CHRISTOPHER: Do you see, Michael?
He wasn't a man to leave a wounded rabbit on the wrong side of a hedge.
Hmm?
MARK: The riding will turn out for the old boy.
I'm not expecting much out of town.
When Grandfather died, half the club came up.
I would take it kindly if you would include Mrs. Wannop in the lunch party.
[MARK CLEARS THROAT]
Ashtray, Jenkins.
REVEREND: Will the inquest be straightforward?
Why shouldn't it be?
A dozen farmers die the same way every year...
dragging a gun through a hedge with the safety off.
You'd agree?
- MAN: Good morning. - Good morning.
Your new novel is in Hatchards' window.
I haven't read it yet.
Can't concentrate.
Had the stuffing knocked out of me.
My book won't rescue me from journalism.
I could write an article...
about war babies and the girls left holding them.
The shame of our soldiers and sailors.
The trouble is there are no more babies than there were before.
So I'm stuck.
Well, must be half the men are twice as reckless...
because they may be killed and half are twice as conscientious for the same reason.
Oh, you darling man. You've just saved me.
[CHRISTOPHER LAUGHS]
- My mind must be coming back. - WANNOP: Yes.
The new book has got me an invitation to one of Macmaster's tea parties.
Will you come with me?
Ah.
It is entirely possible that I may not.
Valentine, dear.
Mr. Tietjens.
I knew you were back, of course. I...
- Mrs. Tietjens must be very... - Yes.
- Um, I thought you were at... - Fri...
Friday's my free afternoon.
I'm just home to change to meet Mrs. Duchemin off her train.
You still pour tea for Macmaster?
- I thought now that you... Um... - I do. Yes.
- Well, I'm very glad you're... - Yes, thank you.
Well, I'd better be getting back to work.
Um... Hmm.
[CHRISTOPHER CLEARS THROAT]
Mrs. Cumfit. Have you met my little white mouse?
CUMFIT: Oh, how lovely.
EDITH: Rudi.
Rudi, we are so looking forward to your next.
Thank you.
REVEREND: A striking advance, Mrs. Wannop.
Not only on your last book, but dare I say on Arnold Bennett's next.
Oh.
Oh, do, do come and hear...
Miss Delamere tell us about her triumph as Phédre in New York.
[EDITH CHUCKLES]
You too, Mr. Ripple.
DELAMERE: And they kept calling it "Fedder."
- "I saw your Fedder, Miss Delamere." - WOMAN: Ha, ha.
- It sounded slightly improper. - Ha, ha.
So brave of you to go there.
DELAMERE: One must for art.
Sylvia.
Allow me.
EDITH: Welcome. Welcome.
- Mrs. Duchemin, my wife, Sylvia Tietjens. - Hello.
EDITH: A pleasure. An absolute pleasure.
Vinnie, of course, you know.
Sylvia.
Allow me to introduce Miss Delamere.
A true artist and I'd like to think...
a great friend. SYLVIA: Is that Mrs. Wannop?
Yes.
Oh.
You're Mrs. Wannop, the great writer.
- I'm Christopher Tietjens' wife. - WANNOP: Well...
You're the most beautiful creature.
[SYLVIA LAUGHS]
SYLVIA: Come along, sit down.
- I'm longing to talk to you. - EDITH: Oh, indeed. Indeed, Mrs. Tietjens.
- If you'd like to sit here... - SYLVIA: No, no. Mrs. Wannop can sit there.
- Come along. There we are. - Nice vacant chair.
SYLVIA: Now we can talk.
CHRISTOPHER: Your mother is having a regular triumph.
[VALENTINE CHUCKLES]
You're quite gay today. You sound different.
I suppose you're better.
I still forget names.
A small part of my mathematical brain came back to life.
I worked out a silly little equation.
What did you work out?
Oh, I looked over a problem with Macmaster...
really in the spirit of bravado, and the answer just came.
You...
- Do you really want to know? - Of course.
The French were bleating...
about the devastation in bricks and mortar they've incurred by enemy action.
I saw it was no more than one year's normal peacetime dilapidation...
- spread over the whole country. - How wonderful.
The argument of French command of the Western Front...
gets kicked out of court for a season.
But weren't you arguing against your own convictions?
Yes, of course. But Macmaster depends on me.
[CHRISTOPHER LAUGHS]
[CHUCKLES]
[CHRISTOPHER CONTINUES LAUGHING]
VALENTINE: Yes.
Oh, Christopher.
These boys have got a motor. They're going to drive me to the Basils.
All right.
As soon as Mrs. Wannop has had enough, I'll pop her in the Tube...
and I'll pick you up.
[KNOCKING ON DOOR]
BROWNLIE: Yes?
Thank you.
Evidently an oversight, my lord.
Who?
Tietjens.
To his club and the officer's mess.
CLERK: Perhaps a letter to Mr. Tietjens.
No.
Send them back.
- Bounce them. - My lord?
Send them back now.
Within the hour.
[DOOR CLOSES]
Got you.
EDITH: Not that we set much store by these things...
but the king is seeing fit to confer a knighthood on Vincent.
Oh, Edith, how lovely. I'm sure he deserves it.
Well, it's not for mere plodding...
but for a special piece of brilliance that has marked him out at the office.
Oh, I know. He worked out some calculation to prove...
that French war damage amounts to no more than a normal year's...
- peacetime dilapidation. - How did you...?
How could you possibly know that?
It's a dead secret.
Vincent must have told that fellow. Your...
No, it wouldn't have been Tietjens. He's no patriot.
Grays Inn, please.
Though he is in uniform, Edith.
What on earth do you dare mean?
You may as well know there's not a more discredited man in London.
You have personal interest at stake.
In our position now, we cannot connive at your intrigue.
Intrigue? What can you mean?
You brazen.
You've had a child by that man, haven't you?
No, I certainly have not.
Oh, let's not, Edith. For your own sake...
remember that you are a woman and not forever and always a snob.
You were a good woman once and you stuck by your mad husband...
- for quite a long time. - Please, stop. Stop, stop.
Get out.
Thank you.
[DOORBELL RINGS]
Uh... Oh, Val?
Uh...
- Can you hang on? - VALENTINE: Yeah.
Telegram for Wannop.
Thank you.
[PHONE RINGING]
Oh, Edward's safe.
He's on a shore.
VALENTINE: Oh, thank God.
Oh. I must give that boy a sixpence.
- SYLVIA [OVER PHONE]: Hello? - Can you ask if Christopher's there?
Is Mr. Tietjens at home?
Young woman...
you'd better keep off the grass.
Mrs. Duchemin is already my husband's mistress.
So keep off.
You've probably mistaken the person you are speaking to.
Perhaps you will ask Mr. Tietjens to ring up Mrs. Wannop when he's at liberty.
My husband is going out to war tomorrow.
He will be at the War Office at 4:15.
He will speak to you there.
But I'd keep off the grass...
if I were you.
[LINE CLICKS]
Is Mrs. Duchemin really your mistress?
Or only Macmaster's?
Or both?
She's been Mrs. Macmaster for six months.
There's a party tonight to announce it.
What about that girl you were potty about at that horrible tea party?
Has she had a war baby by you? Heh.
Everyone says she's your mistress too.
No. Miss Wannop is not my mistress.
It upset Brown lie so much.
He's going to refuse your checks just to please me.
Oh.
Do bankers do that just to please their women friends?
I told him it wouldn't please me at all.
It's all the fault of this beastly war, isn't it?
Turning decent people into squits.
Yes, that's what it is.
Well, I've no right to put a spoke in that girl's wheel.
Or yours.
If you love each other...
| daresay she'll make you happy.
I could wangle you out of going back.
Thank you.
But I prefer to go.
Oh, Chrissie, he didn't.
He did. The club and my officer's mess bill.
But if you needed money...
I didn't. My account was overdrawn for a few hours yesterday.
My pay slip from the army was late.
Brown lie will say so. I'll make sure he does.
No, the damage is done.
Besides, I don't much care.
But...
Well, this means your ruin.
It almost certainly means my ruin.
SYLVIA: Oh, Christopher...
If you had once, in our lives, said to me:
"You whore! You bitch!"
Or about the child or Perowne.
You might have done something to bring us together.
And I daresay, if you're shot...
Christ.
Between the saddle and the ground...
you'll say that you never did a dishonorable action.
In the name of the Almighty, how could any woman live beside you?
But I never disapproved of your actions.
I'm done for you.
I'm not going to listen to you.
You were let down at the beginning by a brute.
So you have the right to let down a man.
It's woman against man.
Now and ever has been.
Mark is going to walk me to the War Office.
MARK: What have you done with the brass your mother left you?
Settled half on Michael...
and the rest I spent on the flat, furniture...
my wife's rooms.
Some notional loans to people.
Macmaster?
I suppose his wife is your mistress.
No.
- I backed him just because he asked. - Heh.
If a lot of fellows knew that, you wouldn't have much brass for long.
I didn't have it for long.
MARK: Did you settle money on the girl who had a child by you?
I haven't got any girl.
There's no child.
- I live on my pay. - Heh.
You had a check dishonored at the club this morning.
You'd better look over my passbooks for the last 10 years.
This is no good if you don't believe what I say.
Then Ruggles is a liar.
Not really.
He picked up things said against me. I don't know why.
Because you treat these south country swine...
with the contempt they deserve.
I thought you'd been buried in their muck so long.
Well, you'd better know what our father wanted.
His idea was if you were a pimp...
you were to go to hell on clean money, whatever it took.
No good making a will, I was to see to it.
Well, you won't be a penny poorer for me.
I won't take his money.
You usually forgive a fellow who shoots himself.
I don't.
I won't forgive him for not making a will, for calling in Ruggles...
not talking to me at the club the night before he died.
- That was stupidity. - It was I who called in Ruggles.
I don't forgive you either.
The whole damn lot of you.
Oh, keep your shirt on.
You must take enough to be comfortable.
Groby will come to you anyway, so don't get killed.
I don't want it.
And I loathe your buttered-toast...
mutton-chopped comfort as much as I loathe...
the chauffeured fornicators in their town and country palaces.
My Marie Leonie makes better buttered toast...
than you can get at the Savoy...
and keeps herself neat and clean on 500 a year.
I'd marry the doxy if she weren't a papist.
We've seen the last of England.
The professional army that saw us through the last hundred years...
Is every man of them dead.
Civilization has gone to war in their place.
We're all barbarians now.
Look at this horror and you in that uniform.
Miss Wannop.
This is my brother, Mark.
VALENTINE: Oh.
I didn't know Mr. Tietjens had a brother. How do you do?
I must speak with you and then I'm going.
Is Edith your mistress?
Certainly not.
How could you ask such a tomfool question?
You.
Don't you know me?
Your wife said:
"Mrs. Duchemin is my husband's mistress. So keep off the grass."
Isn't she a truthful person?
She believes what she says...
but she only believes what she wants to believe...
and only for that moment.
So it isn't true?
I knew it wasn't.
Come along.
I have to get my movement order and then I'm free.
I can't go with you crying like this.
CHRISTOPHER: Oh, yes, you can. This is the place where women cry.
Besides, there's Mark. He's a comforting ass.
Oh, am I?
CHRISTOPHER: Here, look after Miss Wannop.
[MARK PATS SEAT]
Look here.
My father wanted your mother to be comfortable.
I'm here on business.
You may take it as if my father left your mother a nice little plum...
So that she could write books.
Say, a lump sum giving her an annuity of £500.
Does that sound right?
There'll be a bit for you, something for your brother.
You haven't fainted, have you?
I don't faint...
I cry.
Well, that's all right.
I want Christopher to have somewhere to have a mutton chop...
and an armchair by the fire.
Someone who's good for him.
You're good for him.
Now, I'm going to see about Christopher.
I think I can get him into looking after transports.
It's a safe job. Safe-ish.
No beastly glory about it.
Do be quick, then. Do get him into transport at once.
Let's get out of this.
I'm going in to see General Haggard.
I suppose you won't shake hands.
No, why should I?
Oh, do.
MARK: You might get killed.
You might think while you're getting killed, "Oh, God, if only. I wished I'd..."
Or I might wish that I had not.
But...
Oh, well.
Will you be my mistress tonight?
I'm going out at 8:30 tomorrow from Waterloo.
Yes.
Yes, of course I will.
Where?
I'll give Macmaster's party a miss.
No, no, you must go.
Come late. After 11 is best.
I'll be at home. We'll have to be quiet, though.
We'll be quiet.
I tell you...
from the first moment...
I know.
When did you?
CHRISTOPHER: My colors are in the mud.
It's not a good thing to find oneself living by an outmoded code of conduct.
People take you to be a fool.
I'm coming around to their opinion.
But we were in a carpenter's vise.
It was like being pushed together.
Every minute since the first moment, I've waited.
Oh, my dear.
[GUESTS CHATTERING]
MAN 1: Splendid news.
MAN 2: A great thing, his knighthood.
VINCENT: Thank you.
Dining at the club tonight?
- No, I have resigned. - Oh.
The membership committee... Well, the duke, actually...
Well, your wife, in fact, uh...
Anyway, your resignation has not been accepted.
I understand I have to thank you.
Oh. Brown lie begged.
Begs to have the honor of your continuing to draw on his bank.
Well, for that too.
- Are you leaving? - CHRISTOPHER: Yes.
I have an engagement.
- Darling, could you, please? - Of course.
One moment, please. Please, one moment.
REVEREND: Ah, Macmaster, finally.
Excuse me. Excuse me. Forgive me, please.
Chrissie.
Chrissie. Excuse me, I'm sorry.
Chrissie. Wait.
You're not going?
I—...
I wanted to explain...
this miserable knighthood.
That's all right, old man.
We've been pals long enough for a little thing like that not...
I'm very glad for you.
Truly.
And Valentine?
It's all right.
She's at another party.
I'm going on.
VINCENT: Tell her.
You may be killed.
I beg you to believe I will never, never abandon her.
Yes.
Well...
[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING]
[GATE CREAKS]
EDWARD: Valentine.
Edward.
[EDWARD LAUGHS]
Meet my friends.
- SAILOR: Hello. - Hello.
[MEN SINGING INDISTINCTLY]
The trains...
[MEN CONTINUE SINGING INDISTINCTLY]
Ah.
It does make one believe in something.
I'm so sorry, Miss Wannop.
I suppose we are the sort that do not.
But when you come back.
CHRISTOPHER: That night we drove through the mist five years ago...
and you said I'd never take you to Groby...
and I never will.
I can't live at Groby with you.
A trollop from the servants hall to scandalize the parson...
that would be understood, but not...
Not you.
I'll be ready.
I'll be ready for anything you ask.
Oh, my dear.
Come back.
CHRISTOPHER: Grays Inn.
DRIVER: Walk on.
[GRUNTS]
SYLVIA: Oh, don't tell me you didn't.
You didn't, did you?
Let's not quarrel now.
There's something I have decided about.
Oh, don't you dare tell me it was for my sake.
Oh, she was ready to drop into your mouth like a grape.
How could you be such a skunk?
I have to pack my things for France.
Oh, you might as well.
Couldn't you bring yourself to seduce that little kitchen maid?
There'd have been a chance for us.
I have decided about Michael.
For I must to the greenwood go.
Do you mean it?
I may bring up Michael as a Catholic?
A Roman Catholic. You'll teach him, please, to use that term.
But I'm obviously not the man to have charge of the future master of Groby.
I'm not a whole man anymore.
- When did you...? - When my checks were dishonored.
But it was only that squit.
But I let it happen. My father believed the squits too. I let that happen.
A man who can't do any better than that had better let the mother bring up the child.
I loved the little beggar with all my soul from the first moment I saw him.
Perhaps that's the secret.
Well, thank God he has softened your heart.
You're to have Father...
Father...
Not my heart, my brain.
- Father Consett. - Consett.
An intelligent priest.
He'll teach as much sense as nonsense.
Father Consett was hanged.
They dared not put it in the papers because he was a priest...
and all the witnesses were Ulstermen.
And yet I may not say this is an accursed war.
You may for me.