All language subtitles for Life in Squares S01E01 x264 RB58-eng

CLOCK TICKS IN BACKGROUND

Only two more days, Miss Stephen,

until the opening of the trout
fishing season.

Is it really?

Of course,
for sea trout, it's rather later.

There's tremendous sport to
be had on the Dee,

even as early as February.

It seems, Nessa,
since your poor father's death,

that you have been campaigning to
put yourselves beyond the pale.

As if removing from Kensington
were not enough...

..there is the question, Thoby,

of how your sisters are being
chaperoned now you're alone.

I can only spare so much of my time.

Chaperoned, lord!

By me, of course.

A pillar of the legal profession.

Surely I couldn't be more
respectable.

And Virginia's...

delicacy? I'm perfectly well now.

As long as Ginia feeds,
and rests.

Honestly, Aunt.

The goat's no madder
than the rest of us...these days.

Adrian! Which isn't sane, God knows.

But will simply have to do.

Nessa takes great care of her.

Always.

I understand you are at the
painting schools every day.

What your poor father would have
thought of this arrangement,

I cannot imagine.

Have you ever
caught a trout, Miss Stephen?

Uh!
VIRGINIA LAUGHS

Thank the Lord insanity
exempts me from such nonsense.

Goat.

Aunt Mary won't rest

until she's married you off to some
purple squire with a family.

Ah!

Whatever are you doing?

Freedom.

Nessa!

All the dead conversations,

dead habits.

Tea tables! Why not coffee,
for once?

The so ugly piles of linen. Ah...

I've decided,

we shall each
just have the same napkin

until they're too dirty to use.

Or be rid of napkins entirely.

One can always wash one's face.
Is that your milk from this morning?

Oh, yes, I must have forgotten it.
If one even cares to wash!

All those years of pleasing Father.

It seems impossible to say we might
be able to please ourselves now.

I should warn you, Nessa,

that most of my friends
are highly unused to females.

Females.

There's really no saying how they'll
behave in front of you and Ginia.

Thoby, did you really think this
evening is a good idea?

Well, if it isn't, there's no need to
repeat the experiment.

I want to see my friends.

It was you who suggested

it would be ridiculous to
banish you and Virginia upstairs.

Well, it would be.

Society.

I have no conversation, you know.

Then you must rely on your profile.

Duncan,

Thoby is more a brother
than a friend to me.

His sisters are reputed to be as
clever as they are beautiful. Still,

let's presume they haven't
abandoned civilisation entirely.

Lytton! Oh, cousins.

You're so tiresomely
un-persuadable on that point.

Rest assured, it will be an evening
of brilliant amusements.

Mr Keynes.
Thank you, Miss Stephen.

When you come down to it, though,

Childe Harolde
is a load of posturing nonsense.

This is abominable.

Oh, it has its moments.

You have to give Byron that.

But it can't hold a candle to
Don Juan,

even if the Alexandrines are forced
to breaking point.

Well... Thank you, Miss Stephen.
How delicious.

Mr Grant.

I mustn't leave you out.

Now it becomes clear

why you've made such poor
progress on your essay, Strachey.

THE OTHERS CHAT IN BACKGROUND
Your cousin?

A distraction
having him in the house, I imagine.

Mm. Torment, Maynard,
of the most delectable kind.

It's not very good. No.

But this is.

It's yours.

I do apologise. Please.

I'd much rather honesty than praise.

Braver than I am, then.

Mr Sargent
says all my things are too grey.

I thought I saw
you at the painting schools.

Everything's too something for him,
isn't it?

Too grey, too tonal.

Too horizontal. Yes!

I suspect what he really means is,
too unlike one of my paintings.

Miss Stephen,

might I trouble you for another
of those remarkable buns?

Of course, Mr Bell.

I like your socks.

The colour.

I'm so glad.

Your brother loves nothing
more than to tease me

for my sartorial flourishes.

Mr Bell is a fearful parakeet.
Isn't he?

And yet Thoby is fonder of him
than all the others.

They're all so unattractive.

Scholars.

Mr Grant's certainly
the only one of them

one could even begin to imagine
marrying, don't you think?

I was unaware either of us
were contemplating matrimony.

Just when we're attempting
our escape from all that.

Mr Grant has a fine head,
it's true.

Yes, probably because it contains
a brain un-deformed by Cambridge.

THEY LAUGH

Still, we shall all marry eventually
I suppose. What?

Children, Billy. Copulation.

No, really. I know copulation is
something like sodomy in Plato...

Surely you can imagine. No!

Snout.

Yes, on the snout.

Promise...

..if you marry,
you must only marry me.

Just us, Stephens.

Very well, then.

Just us, Stephens.

Ah...looks just like it, doesn't it?

I, er...I know a nice view
up there a bit.

Really artistic.

Perhaps...

Perhaps you might show me.

GROANING AND MOANING

Can it be true what I hear, Thoby?

That you've been holding
some sort of degenerate salon?

Hardly! You can't mean
our Thursday nights?

A few friends, Aunt, that's all.
It's all terribly high-minded.

Oh, hello, Aunt Mary...

You look...flourishing!

How was it, Ginia?

Well, I'm not sure the least thing
I said went in.

I mean, the poor shop girls can
barely keep their eyes open,

and there's a very difficult
socialist, Mr Zeldwyn,

a Jew I think. He asked
the most vexing questions...

You're tremendous, Goat.
"Literature for the working man."

The working man?

Well, it's composition, as a matter
of fact. Morley College.

You have kept this from me, Nessa.

Virginia, you know
you must take great care

not to overstrain yourself,

to tire out your brain.

Aunt Mary's right, Virginia, you
know how tired your brain can get...

Oh, do shut up, Adrian,
you're like a feeble little echo!

Smoking? Really! This can't be...

I fear I must speak out,
on behalf of your dear father.

He would have despaired
to see his daughters...

Father is dead, Aunt Mary!

He's dead.

And since he didn't believe
in an afterlife, I don't think

even he could claim further
sacrifice from Virginia and me.

We intend to live in our own way...

Now. All of us.

If that is distressing to you,
I'm sorry.

But in that case, it may be better
for you not to call again.

Bloomsbury.

Aunt Mary banished!
You are entirely magnificent!

Perhaps I went too far.

She's bound now to believe
every rumour she hears.

Well, let her. We alone know
the purity of our intentions.

Indeed.
Chastity shall be our shield!

DOORBELL RINGS
Oh, Lord. Is it really so late?

Mr Bell's accompanying me
to see some paintings.

Mr Bell?

Mr Bell?!

It's almost French...

..and yet not French enough,
don't you think?

Of course, English painting was
only in its infancy.

Duncan says
there's something disturbing

about Gainsborough's
handling of tone,

I don't know if you agree.
Stimulating though.

Perhaps that's
the best thing about him.

Perhaps you could say
that Gainsborough is

the Turner of portrait painters.

I think you could say anything,
Mr Bell. It doesn't make it true.

All of you, talking and talking,

as though everything
can be talked.

Well, not everything.

Indecency!

I can assure you this has got
absolutely nothing to do with me.

AUNT JANE: Good God, Lytton.

Mrs Elvers found it while she was
putting away Duncan's linen.

I am dumbstruck. Quite.

Now, you are closer to your cousin
than any of us.

Have you noted signs of depravity?

I mean, he's pale, of course...

vague. Mother,
he's always been vague.

It wouldn't be fair to trouble
Duncan's parents

until we establish
if the tendency is far gone.

I shall consult an expert!

Oh, Christ!

Dr Hyslop. She met him
through her work

with the Women's Progressive
Movement.

He's the head of Bedlam.

Honestly, it's fairly tame,

compared to the sort of thing
that did the rounds at school.

Well, you know Mother -

13 children, but she remains
untroubled by knowledge

of anything that occurs
below the waist and above the knee.

Still, I'm the more shocked.

Young ladies?

Hm. Don't worry, I'm sure Dr Hyslop
will confirm I'm fully an invert.

Hm.

Courage!

It could be a great deal worse.

Well, no signs of disease.

Your aunt is concerned that your
inability to finish a painting

may be the result of, um...

unclean habits.

Yes, no, I...

LAUGHS

I don't know why.

Aunt Jane has quite the...

She has got hold of the wrong end
of the stick, truly.

I am not dissipated.

Not in that way.

I, um...I painted myself,
when I was young.

Quite the enthusiast...

..for a time.

It's not so much knowing one is
degenerate, criminal even...

..it's sitting at meals
or making conversation

and knowing that everything
one thinks and feels...

..what one finds amusing,
or important, or beautiful,

everything is different
from those around you.

And if they knew, they'd think
you an imbecile or lock you up.

My dear fellow...

You don't think that's why I can't...

..why I find it hard
to finish my work?

You yourself are unfinished.

At your age,
one passes through many phases,

and as an artist, many styles,
until one finds what suits.

And until a phase passes,

the sympathy of true friends is
a wonderful thing.

I shall set your aunt's
mind at rest.

HE SIGHS

I wish I could see what it is
that so beguiles you.

Some passages of paint...

..you feel them...

..in your marrow.

You know what it must have
been like to...

make that mark.

Painting can be a sort of...

..physical knowledge.

Thank you for being so patient.

I know not everyone enjoys
looking at the same thing
over and over again.

I never tire of looking at you.

If you were a painting,
Miss Stephen, I...

..I shouldn't tire of it.

A-ha! Your expeditions with
Mr Bell get ever longer!

The collection must be of a size
to rival the National Gallery.

I did tell you
I'd be out all afternoon.

I'm not sure
Mr Bell's intentions are honourable.

I think he intends rape and pillage.
Virginia!

Well, you're wrong.

He's proposed, actually.

What could be more honourable
than that?

You've finished with your cup,
haven't you?

You turned him down, of course.

Of course.

Thursday nights are going to be
a mite awkward from now on.

Really, Thoby, are you suggesting
I should have accepted Mr Bell

purely to avoid embarrassment?

No.

Of course not!

I don't see why there should be
any awkwardness.

I explained I have no desire
whatsoever to be married,
that's all, to anyone.

He seemed to understand perfectly.

Milk's off!

Don't tell me you both drank it
without noticing!

Mabel!

Really, sometimes I despair!

I did nothing to encourage him.

Lytton, cake without eating it
simply isn't cake.

Art doesn't exist
apart from the artefact,

human relations don't exist
apart from...

Copulation? Humanity!

LYTTON: Come, Mr H, I think
you have to concede Keynes' point...

I'm not giving up.

MAYNARD: Thank you, Goth, I am glad
that someone finds it possible

to see sense through this morass
of ill-will...

Oh, God, cricket! Keep lobbing balls
for long enough...

Giving up what?

Oh...

Nonsense.

One has to keep hold of painting
as the most important thing,

don't you find? I suppose.

You must see you've argued yourself
into a corner.

Not for the first time.

Only because you've manoeuvred him
there,

like the most craven sort of
bullies. I'm with you Mr Strachey.

No-one can be with me...

Though I find I'm only interested
in theories of painting

when I can't actually paint.

Or when I'm miserable. The two often
go together, in my case.

Not at the moment, I hope.

It's a flaw in my character.

..You're taking this
far too personally!

Mr Strachey... Lytton! Oh, dear!

Well, of all prostitutes,
the spiritual ones are the worst.

You mean Maynard?

I thought you two were rather
going at it. Hobhouse.

Maynard lacks the imagination
even to be a jade.

He's a...
safety bicycle with genitals.

Hobhouse? Sorry? The blond boy,
the one at Cambridge.

Maynard knew.

He knew, Duncan,
that I'd given my heart.

And I'd have gladly given my penis,

but Hobber always claimed
he was sworn to chastity.

And they're... It appears that vow
of chastity applied only to me.

He and Maynard have
copulated freely...

..have fucked and sucked all summer.

Of course guilt compelled Hobhouse
to write to me about it.

The whole world stinks
in my nostrils.

God...I stench in my own nostrils.

Oh, Christ, I'm ridiculous!

No, you're not.

Lytton...

Truly.

Are they all sodomites then?

No! Virginia...

Mabel could come in at any moment!
Oh, the shock would do her good.

It's hardly a question of shock.

In the eyes of the law,
it's jail and hard labour.

Even if Mr Strachey does prefer
to call it "the Higher Sodomy".

Naturally.
The exalted love of man for man.

It makes perfect sense,

since they all consider women
so thoroughly inferior.

What a bore for them
the world must be peopled! Hm.

But really, why should we be content
with the scraps from their table?

That's what they do, Nessa.
Exclude us.

Schools, colleges, clubs. Orifices!

I don't see why we should concern
ourselves with men at all.

I much prefer women. I shall
take a leaf from their book -

the Higher Sapphistry!
If you prefer.

What does it matter -
who puts what where and with whom?

Friendship is the thing.

And not making other people unhappy.

Or even...making each other happy!

I just think strong feeling
of any kind tends to go badly.

You of all people should know that.
That way madness lies.

You know, the King exposed himself
in the bushes...

..and the birds sang to me in Greek.
Virginia...

Do you think I tried to kill myself
from grief

because Father was dead,
or because I was so very relieved?

I genuinely don't know, still.

There's no need to say absolutely
everything out loud, you know.

I'm sorry I'm so quiet, Mr Bell.

Although you've been unusually quiet
yourself.

It's killing me.

Three floors of the Army and Navy
is enough to finish anyone off.

Miss Stephen, have your sentiments
changed at all since my proposal?

Or developed, in any way?

Couldn't we mould marriage
to suit our own ends

rather than be moulded by it?

Adrian! Success, as you see.

There are more packages in the hall.

Take them upstairs, would you?
Put them by the steamer trunks.

I'm sorry, I still don't see
the need for marriage.

Is it your sister?
I know she needs your care. No.

My freedom has been so...

late in coming, and so hard won.

I value your company, truly.

I have come to...

..to care for you...

..as a friend.

Perhaps I'm being unfair.

Yes, I see I am.

Perhaps if you went away,
from England.

That might be best, since I'm only
travelling myself for a few months.

A year might help.
It would clarify both our feelings.

Believe me, I feel for you
with perfect clarity.

Too much.

I am in love with you, Miss Stephen.

But how is that even possible, when
we don't really know one another?

Oh, God! Enough!
I'm sorry.

Women are encouraged to be such
idiots in these matters. I hate it.

Please...

Shall I put the hatboxes
with the others?

Yes, please.

Marry...

..or burn.

You're the full moon of heaven.

Does heaven have a moon?

You'll never love me.

Truly.

Incontinently.

That's not a request, by the way.

Duncan, tell me how you feel.

When I'm not here,
you don't miss me at all, do you?

Society may condemn us to deceit,
but that only makes it more vital

that we are absolutely honest
with each other about our feelings.

So...

You don't love me.

Say it.

Say, "Lytton,
you mean nothing to me."

But I really am fond of you.

Oh, "fond". One is fond of
country dancing or milk pudding.

All this is worthless
unless you can tell me the truth.

Say it.

"You...mean...nothing to me."

All right.

You mean nothing to me.

CALL TO PRAYER

"Dear Mr Bell, I'm so glad you have
established yourself in Paris.

"And from everything you write,
so very comfortably.

"I can assure you my indisposal
when we arrived in Athens

"was no more than that,
perhaps due to the heat.

"As you recommended,
I took four glasses of brandy

"before we got on the train
for Constantinople,

"which rendered the journey
a pleasing blur.

"I'm sure you remember
from your university walking tours

"that Thoby sets a gruelling pace.

"I only hope that blisters
might ensure us all

"a few days' rest
once we reach Fethiye.

"You have probably heard
that Mr Strachey has announced

"a determination to finish
his dissertation once and for all

"or die in the attempt,

"and to that end
has shut himself away to work.

"Mr Grant reports
that Mr Keynes is in full pomp
with his new fellowship,

"and has declared he longs to share
his good fortune with us all.

"Virginia asks, if you've heard
any more from either horse's mouth,

"to please pass it on.
We are starved of gossip.

"And need it far more than
mosquito nets or malaria pills.

"Even amid ancient splendour,

"I must confess our Thursday nights
are keenly missed.

"And I trust the rarest
French cuisine cannot compare

"to penny buns dished out
by the Stephen sisters."

Pardon, monsieur.

The doctor on the boat thinks
it's his appendix,

or possibly malaria.

I can't thank you enough, Mr Bell,
for returning so promptly. Nessa!

She needs attention herself!
So I see.

All will be well, Miss Stephen.

CLOCK TICKS

"Anne did not share these feelings.

"She persisted in a very determined,

"though very silent disinclination
for Bath,

"caught the first dim view
of the extensive buildings,

"smoking in rain...

"..without any wish
of seeing them better...

"..felt their progress
through the streets to be,

"however disagreeable,
yet too rapid.

"For who would be glad to see her
when she arrived?

"And looked back, with fond regret,
to the bustles of Uppercross

"and the seclusion of..."
Not heaven then?

My dear chap.

Do you know...

..I have the most damnable craving
for anchovy toast.

To Thoby, and his recovery.
And to Duncan.

How many paintings finished?
Oh, er, three!

Remarkable! A new epoch!

On that matter...

the completion of your dissertation

and a far greater accomplishment -
your beard.

Do try to savour it, Maynard,
it's Montrachet, not ginger beer.

Sorry. I've become rather spoiled
by the cellars at King's.

You'll be the same.
Let's hope I get the opportunity.

I don't know what I'll do otherwise.

Hasn't Aunt Jane arranged for you
to go to this sanatorium in Sweden?

She has, but I do consider
being an invalid more of a hobby
than a career.

Swedes.

Blast!

Thank you so much.

Lytton, you should know...

..Maynard and I are...

Well, there's no point
pretending to you.

While you've been so occupied...
You're intimates?

Yes.

I know you prefer honesty with
these things. Feelings and such.

And it's not as though you thought
I was in love with you.

You were extremely clear about that.

Another toast then.

To friendship.

That rarest good deed
in the naughtiest of worlds.

Saxon, old chap.

What is it?

What's happened?

Oh, God!

Oh, God, it's like iron, Nessa.

What are we going to do?

I don't know.

Mr Bell.

He didn't suffer.

It's what one is supposed to say,
is it?

But it's true.

He even had time to...

..to say goodbye.

Nothing will change.

Everything...
Everything will change.

Yes. That's probably what I want,
isn't it?

I thought you wanted freedom. I
thought that's what we both wanted.

Just us Stephens. Billy Goat.

A husband is not a sister.

He's a parakeet
and you agreed with me!

Oh, God, Virginia,
we can't always agree!

It just seems...
more important than ever...

with Thoby, to try,
to at least to try to be happy.

And Clive has a talent for that.

Besides, I find
parakeets are to my taste.

I didn't know. But you should have!
You should have.

I know what I feel, too much,
you always say.

But you -
for God's sake, a painter,

your work is meant
to show the world,

your vision of the world.

What use can it be
to live as a mystery to yourself

as well as to the rest of us?
You might as well be colour blind!

BELL TOLLS

I feel I should thank
your Mrs Raven Hill.

Hm?

For the excellence
of her instruction.

Some things can't be taught.

Is it really like this
for everybody?

Servants and...cabinet ministers?

Possibly not the Home Secretary.

"I am in heaven here with Clive,

"the weather is divine,
as is the food.

"The sunsets are a revelation

"and copulation continues to be
a tremendous success.

"It could only be improved
by your presence. Nessa."

Aren't you meant to be
resting at this stage?

I have never had more energy
in my life, have I, Clive?

You had rather a terrifying amount
of energy before,

compared to me anyhow.

Have you settled in Fitzroy Square?

Oh, yes, now that Adrian and I
are orphans.

Duncan says Maynard's rooms
are very comfortable.

Well, he should know,
since he's in them most of the time.

You should hear Aunt Mary -

"Virginia, all alone
in a house of men.

"Is it a boarding house,
or a brothel?"

THEY LAUGH

Surely what it most resembles is
a library, which is disappointing.

The best of everything.

There's Clive for you.

You mustn't mind, Virginia.

Your sister's not as intelligent
as you, of course,

but she's still terribly clever.

I wonder how long it'll take her
to discover that Clive isn't?

SHE CHUCKLES

Hm? Oh, I can't, didn't you know?

On account of being cracked.
I'm forbidden stimulants.

I'm glad to see you're flourishing.
Truly.

I can scarcely believe
you've been so good about it.

Maynard and me.

I can scarcely believe it myself.

Come and decide, both of you -
is this any good?

Oh, dear.
Semen, I presume?

Can one really say such things
without being thought mad?

Well, human nature has changed.

Among friends, anyhow.

Or relations.

Friends.

You and I have a chance
to be good friends now, Virginia.

How pretty you look.

Of course, Nessa was born to be
a mother. She'll adore it.

Not too much, I hope.

I didn't marry her to see her
turn into a brooding milk cow!

BABY GURGLES

Oh, Ginia...

I'm so happy!

Julian Heward Bell.

I thought he'd be Thoby,
but...look at him -

there's not a scrap of Stephen
in him, he's pure Bell.

He's...quite splendid.

Yes.

Entirely.

I can't tell you how it feels.

The Times Literary Supplement have
asked me to write another review.

Oh, Billy, how wonderful for you.
I'm not surprised.

Just in time for autumn plans.

Oh, God, all those years,
dreaming of escape, plotting away.

Plotting, squasher.

Writing for Aunt Virginia,
painting for me.

Plans. And now there's no need!

Isn't there?

Don't you just need to carry on now,
regardless?

Reviews and...that book of yours
will be finished some day...

and published to roaring acclaim
and you'll live happily ever after.

Like me.

I feel as though
you've tidied me into a drawer.

BABY CRIES

Oh, dear, are you hungry?

Is that what's the matter?
This is impossible.

Oh, dear.

Are you hungry?

I'm going to go and sleep
in the dressing room.

Nessa... Hmm?

BABY CONTINUES CRYING
Oh, dear!

Ssh! Ssh!

Anything I can get you?

Nothing whatsoever.

BABY GURGLES

They're only suggestions.

You did like it, though?

Virginia, you've written
passages of pure prose poetry.

Perhaps a few too many,
I've marked the surplus.

Thank you for reading it so closely.

I must confess I didn't expect you
to do more than glance at it.

Well, I have the time...

Billy... Oh.

I'm so sorry.

I was snatching an hour
while Julian has his nap.

My hands are covered in paint!

Do you want me
to bring him down for you?

Oh, no, don't disturb him.
I must go, I'm afraid, I'm teaching.

On the snout, if not too wet.

Yes, English Poetry Since 1750,
so no-one has the least interest!

Well, write to me
from Cornwall, will you! Dorset!

I hope you looked after her.

I know you know I need the money.

I asked Clive to buy it

because it's the best painting
I've seen in at least five years.

And he loves it too.

You know I can't lie.
I'm famous for it.

Anyway, I thought Maynard was richer
than wotsit these days,

with the King's chair
and all his stock market things.

I can't live off Maynard
for the rest of my days.

It's not as if we're...

married.

Oh, hello, Duncan.

Darling, you realise
we're expected for eight.

Buggeration.

You're coming too, aren't you?
To the Morells?

I did intend to shave.
And I must have a bath.

You certainly must,
it's going to be smart.

The Asquiths are going to be there.

The Prime Minister and his wife?

No! It's far too late
to make your excuses.

Go and get ready.
And you must shave!

You don't mind, do you, darling?
Since Duncan's an invert?

How is it different, though?
You and Maynard, from being married?

I want to know.

Well, I'm hardly best suited
to say, am I?

I suppose...

..we don't expect the same things
of each other.

Children, obviously.

Fidelity.

Loyalty? No, that's something else,
isn't it? Loyalty is...

..a primary colour. Yes. Good.

There must be two others then.

Companionship, I suppose.

Or rather friendship.

Being able to say what one means,
anyway,

without being thought depraved...

..or mad.

Loyalty, friendship and...

..sex, of course.

And the greatest of these is...

AT SAME TIME: Friendship. Sex.

THEY CHUCKLE

Thank God we're so much more
sensible than our parents

with all this kind of thing.

Virginia says... I couldn't borrow
a pair of studs, could I?

Oh, of course,
Clive seems to have hundreds.

Virginia says that's what led to
no end of trouble with their lot -

not just madness,
but wars and so on.

Naturally she puts it much better.

Anyway, all that nonsense
about never mentioning the WC

or copulation
or anything of that sort.

We intend to bring up Julian
quite differently.

We weren't allowed to say WC
when I was a child.

We called it...

What did we call it?

Paying a visit, of all things.

Which was rather confusing,
given the actual visits
people were always paying.

One did rather think of the vicar
shitting on the drawing room carpet.

Loyalty.

I'm sorry?

The three primary colours.

Surely loyalty's...

..the most important.

Perhaps you're right.

Just the ticket.

SHE SNIFFS

Whose scent is that, Clive?

You must tell me.
Virginia never wears scent.

Virginia? Who is it?

I shan't mind, I promise,
as long as I know.

You've been with another woman,

your clothes are heavy with it.
Tell me.

It's, um...

It's Mrs Raven Hill.

Oh.

Oh.

I saw her again, and...

Now, look here, you must know,
I don't love you any less.

It's just...

..the wretched baby.

Not...wretched.

You know I love the little chap.
Adore him.

But you've been so shut off.

One thing led to another,
as they say.

Stupid. I've been very stupid.

I adore you.

You must believe me.

Men have a...weakness.

I'm so wretchedly susceptible
to beauty.

Yes.

I'm sorry.

My darling... No.

Listen to me. I don't want...

I don't think either of us
should be hemmed in...

..or unhappy
just because we're married.

But we have a son.

Our beautiful boy.

And friends and a house.

We must be honest with each other.

Yes.

And realistic.

If one is reasonable,
we can overcome almost anything.

Nessa, you...amaze me.

Good.

But you must...end it with Virginia.

Nothing has happened between us,
I swear.

Whatever it is, I couldn't bear it.

And neither could she, really.

You know she couldn't.

Virginia?

BIRDS SING

Where is she?

Julian is showing her the new barn.

You mustn't forget
all those wretched hats.

If they're on refusal,
it'll cost you a fortune. Ha!

Virginia and hats!
Prepare to be astonished.

Clive, don't be cruel.

Maybe we need to find her a husband.

Virginia.

I'll go and load them up, shall I?

It's Vita's great project - turning
Virginia into a fashion plate.

Apparently a five guinea hat
is essential

if she's to be taken
at all seriously...

in the public eye.

It must be rather a bore,
all this romance business.

Her and Vita.

Well...I can hardly begrudge her
a hat or two.

She'll have her fling.

As long as it's my slippers
under the bed. I suppose.

You know all about that, I imagine.

I suppose it might just be
the price of love.

Hats?

Freedom.

ALL: Bride and groom.

Virginia's letter said she finds
the climax "immensely exaggerated".

Is it the tool or the workman?

You never speak to me any more.
Not properly.

We speak all the time!

You're still planning to visit us
in the country, aren't you?

And Bunny, of course?

Nessa's an absolute saint!

Aren't you lucky to have the
devotion of an actual, living saint!

You know, Nessa, if we fucked, you'd
probably find me less irritating.

I wish so much
I could make you happy.