Original subtitles

I deprecate any idea of your marrying

until you're well advanced on your career in the city.

In particular, I deprecate any idea

of such a marriage as this.

[Clears throat]

I think, Father, that most people

would rather covet such a marriage as this.

After all, Lord Alconleigh...

Oh, I dare they these families were well enough in their day,

but what I'm hoping for is a more...

practical type of alliance

with one of the big families in our own line.

But, Father, will you at least consent to talk

to Lord Alconleigh, if only on neutral ground?

I can hardly decline that honor.

LINDA: I do hope Fa hasn't been too energetic

with Sir Leicester.

He only wants what's best for you, duck.

Oh, I know, Mummy.

But sometimes he has such a funny way of showing it.

Do admit. [Door closes]

Fa, have you seen him?

We met on neutral ground.

The Savage Club. Suitable place.

The fellow's no better than a fussy wussy.

I'd have taken this to him for two pins.

Wish I'd had my entrenching tool...

it's the only thing for bloody Huns!

[Door closes]

Quite apart from his offensive personal manner,

Lord Alconleigh confirms everything I've ever thought

about these landed families.

But still with large capital sums at their disposal, Father.

So, if you ask me, you're well out of it.

Young Kroesig may look like something

out of a picture book now,

but soon enough, he'll be the spit of his father,

like some truffling pig who's wolfed all the truffles

and is wetting himself with anxiety in case there are still

a few around for someone else.

But, Fa!

[Crying]

So, I'm sending you off,

next week to our clearing house in New York

to start learning your business in life.

LINDA: Jassy.

Darling Jassy, do lend me your running away money

to go to New York.

No, Linda, I've saved and scraped for years and years.

I simply can't begin all over again now.

Besides, I shall want it for when I run away myself.

But I'll give it to you back...

Tony will, when we're married.

I know men.

Oh, if only Lord Merlin were here, he would help me.

No good thinking about that. Lord Merlin's in Rome.

Oh, you are all unkind to me.

Not a word of comfort.

And even Fanny's deserting me now.

I'm sorry, Linda, but I do have to go to Aunt Emily sometimes.

I'm sure Jassy and Vict can listen to Tony's letters

just as well as I can.

Oh, my goodness, they are dreary.

At least they're short.

Such funny, immature handwriting he has.

I sometimes wonder whether he can be quite all there.

Horrible, beastly, counter-Honnish pigs!

Oh, don't go away, darling Fanny, don't go!

You know I must, darling.

But I'll come back as soon as I can.

Ah, Fanny...

There has been a most interesting invitation for you.

FANNY: Aunt Emily, I've only just come home.

Nevertheless, you can't fail to be intrigued by this.

Lord and Lady Montdore

are finally back from India with Polly.

You remember them all, I expect?

Or do you?

It is some years now since Lord Montdore

went away to be viceroy.

Oh, yes, I remember them very clearly.

Well, now, Lady Montdore

wants you to go again for awhile as company for Polly.

Pretty Polly. How long for, Aunt Emily?

Only a few days.

Lady Montdore is having a house party.

Rather a grown-up affair, she says.

Well, that's why she wants you for Polly.

What does Uncle Davey say?

I'm afraid we can't consult Davey just now, dear.

It's his day for getting drunk.

I long to tell him. He'll be so much interested.

Drunk? Uncle Davey drunk?

Oh, nothing vicious, dear, just his new health idea.

Ah, he'll tell you all about it himself.

[Sighing]

The aim is to warm up your glands with a series of jolts.

The worst thing in the world for the body is a quiet life

full of regular habits.

That way lies speedy old age and death.

[Coughing]

But shock your glands, force them to react,

startle them back into youth,

keep them on tip-toe so they never know

what to expect next, and they have to stay young and healthy

to deal with all the surprises.

But, surely, the thing is that

you do have to surprise the body?

Hmm?

If you get drunk on regular days,

then the body will know just what to expect.

Yes, you have a point.

Emily, when is my next day for over-eating?

Next Wednesday, dear. Every fortnight, you said.

In order to surprise and shock my glands and intestinal organs,

put it back to Friday.

Oh, what a good idea. Fanny will have gone by then.

Oh, Fanny gone? Where, might one ask?

She's been invited by the Montdores to Hampton.

Oh... fascinating.

Why wasn't I told about this before?

Because your glands were too startled to take it in.

Of course, you realize, Emily dear,

that the poor child will die of terror?

I'm not a child any longer, Davey.

Grown-ups have died of terror at Hampton before now.

[Laughs]

Uh, first of all, dear, someone who is sure to be there

is Boy Dougdale, the Lecherous Lecturer.

[Laughs] Have you ever heard him?

Lord Montdore's brother-in-law?

And Lady Montdore's cavalier.

Oh, yes... he played footy with me

when I sat next to him once at luncheon.

[Laughs] And as you're probably

still just within his favorite age group,

there's no telling what fun and games,

you may have not with him at Hampton. [Laughs]

EMILY: Oh, dear.

[Clears throat]

I will not disguise it from you.

The reports I've had of your work from New York

are not what I had hoped for.

They haven't been really bad, Father...

they can't have been.

I know how important this assignment has been,

and I have tried to concentrate.

Tried to?

What is there to prevent you from succeeding?

The continued uncertainty about

my engagement to Linda Radlett.

Oh... that.

Well, I don't see that that is an excuse for indifferent work.

Oh, don't you, Father?

Well, now, let me tell you,

on my return to New York, I cannot,

I will not give more than a fraction of my attention

to business and my future career until I have your consent

to my marrying Linda and a date for the wedding

has been announced.

Surely, I have sufficiently explained the disadvantages

of such a union.

And your points have been well taken.

I know that Linda comes of a family that is,

from our point of view entirely obsolete,

both in habit and outlook.

On the other hand, Linda herself is young,

intelligent, energetic, very much under my influence,

and, I believe, malleable to the point where she could

become a tremendous asset.

Asset?

She could become an asset?

So I believe.

Well. Well, well, well.

I don't wish to see your career

delayed or jeopardized at this juncture.

If you can assure me that you can only be serious

about banking after this marriage has been agreed...

I do assure you, Father.

Then I shall give you my consent.

It might have been worse.

After all, she is a lady.

Where is she?

Where's Linda?

We're late starting.

SADIE: I don't suppose she'll be long, Matthew.

You know what trouble she has getting her stock tied properly,

ever since you refused to tie it for her.

MATTHEW: Well, that's quite right, too.

Can't be a child forever. Got to grow up sometime.

That's right, Fa, and so I have.

MATTHEW: What's all this?

I'm not coming out today.

SADIE: But the meet's a Cock's Barn, duck.

Your very best thing.

No point in riding out to Cock's Barn

just to be miserable.

I might as well stay in bed.

Stay in bed?! After 8:00?!

You're not ill, are you?

No, Fa, not ill. Sick.

They call it love, in case you've never heard of it.

Love for someone who loves me back.

So, everything should be, could be,

would be absolutely all right, only you... you won't allow it!

Allow what?

My engagement to Tony Kroesig.

MATTHEW: First time I've heard of an engagement.

I say I'm engaged to Tony and he says so.

And even Sir Leicester Kroesig now says so.

So, who, who, who are you to be so cruel and obstinate?!

I'm your father, missy, that's who.

Too old for bread and water.

A stiff dose of Glauber's Salt should bring her to heel.

[Crying]

MAN: Miss Frances Logan.

Fanny dear! Such a long time!

How you've grown! [Laughs]

Come and have a cup of tea! You must be worn out.

This is Frances Logan.

- Fanny. - Come along, dear.

ROLY: Not by any chance the Bolter's daughter?

Yes.

By Jove! The Bolter's girl!

You know who this is, Veronica?

She's the Bolter's child, that's all.

LADY MONTDORE: Come and have your tea, Fanny.

[Laughs]

I couldn't be more fascinated, considering that

the very first person the Bolter

ever bolted with was Chad, wasn't it, darling?

Lucky me got him next,

but that was only after she'd bolted from him again.

Never mind all of them, Fanny.

I don't. I'm just interested, that's all.

Everyone adores your mother in a funny kind of way.

They're always wanting to talk about her.

But it's lucky for you your Aunt Emily took you over.

Roly, go and fetch Polly, will you?

I think she's playing billiards with Boy.

That was a double six.

Oh, bother bloody Sonia and her fag-calls.

Care to play it out for me, Chad?

Do take care.

LADY MONTDORE: And here is Montdore.

My dear. And this is my friend Fanny.

And do you remember the last time I saw you?

We were laughing together over Alice. [Laughs]

Have the Sauveterres arrived yet, Sonia?

VERONICA: Sauveterres? Do you mean thrilling Fabrice?

Don't tell me that he's married?

Oh, of course not, Veronica.

He's bringing his mother to stay.

Of course, we've always known Fabrice,

and he came out to us in India.

He's very much taken up

with the little Ranee of Rawalpur.

In fact, they do say her last baby...

[Clears throat]

And I only hope it was.

Dreadful old man, the Rajah. Poor creatures.

One baby after another. You have to feel sorry for them.

Like little birds.

I used to go and visit the ones they kept in purdah,

and of course, they simply worshipped me.

It was really touching.

MAN: Lady Patricia Dougdale.

Oh, my dear.

FANNY: I had seen the Dougdales from time to time

while the Montdores were in India,

because they were neighbors at Alconleigh.

Lady Patricia was a perfect example of beauty

that is but skin deep.

She looked like a classical statue

that had been put out in the weather.

Where is Boy?

Playing billiards with Polly, I think.

Ah, here at last is my lady wife.

And dear little Fanny!

POLLY: Fanny.

FANNY: Oh, Polly.

Nobody told me.

Have you been here long?

How does my Frances for this many a day?

So lovely to see you again.

Do you know, when I was in India,

I used to think and think about you.

Do you remember the well in the wilderness?

And how Linda had worms? [Laughing]

It does seem another life, so very long ago.

They tell me Linda's more or less engaged.

Less, I think.

Uncle Matt won't recognize it.

Fancy, though, Louisa married,

and Linda, at any rate, half engaged.

I suppose you came out in India?

Yes, I did.

It was all very dull.

Do you enjoy it, Fanny?

What I do enjoy is the dressing up.

Do you think about dresses and hats

all the time, even in church?

Oh, I do, too.

But what about love?

Are they always having love conversations the whole time?

Incessantly.

Oh, bother!

It happened in India, but I thought

perhaps in a cold climate it might be a bit different.

Mother's in a perfect fit with me

because I never fall in love with people.

But it's no good, because if you don't, you don't.

At my age, I should have thought it's natural not to.

Could you have fallen in love in India?

Fanny, darling, what do you mean?

Of course I could have. Why not?

I just didn't happen to.

White people?

White or black.

Fall in love with blacks?

What would Uncle Matt say?

People do, you know, like anything.

And I'll tell you something, Fanny.

I honestly believe Ma would rather I fell in love

with an Indian than not at all.

What she hates is the "not at all."

I know she's only asked this Frenchman to stay

because she thinks no woman can resist him.

FANNY: What Frenchman?

The Duc de Sauveterre.

But would your mother like you to marry a Frenchman?

Oh, not marry, good gracious, no.

She'd just like to see if I'm like other women.

Well... she'll see.

Isn't your uncle Lord Alconleigh?

And isn't he quite, quite barmy?

I wouldn't say...

I mean, doesn't he hunt people with bloodhounds

by the light of the moon?

Yes, but you see, the thing is...

Oh, Roly, darling,

how too, too outrageously riveting!

Do say that again!

He bought a microscope, Veronica,

so that he could look at... well, look at his own...

well, effluvium.

Yes, so you were saying, darling, but which effluvium?

After all, we all of us have such a lot.

Well, you know, he wanted to know if he was...

well, you know.

Darling, you mean whether he'd caught something dreadful?

No, no, Veronica, those little things

which swim about in... wee wee.

Oh.

[Montdore speaking French]

[Boy speaking French]

Oh, hold on, that doesn't sound right.

Hasn't won his jockey?

Well, that sounds...

No, no, Montdore, you should know the idiom by now.

"Gagner son jockey" means to get in to the Jockey Club.

Oh, of course!

N'est-ce pas, Madame la Duchesse?

Yes, I shall take another roll.

Fabrice, you hardly had time

to meet my daughter, I think, before dinner.

She's a good deal grown since you last saw her in India.

On the right.

But quite charming.

And the little girl four places down on the other side?

Frances Logan.

Ah, the Bolter's daughter.

Powdering their noses, they call it.

I go once in the morning, and that's that.

I don't have to be let out like a dog, thank goodness.

Nothing so common, in my mind.

Who is the lady with the flat gold hair,

the one with the five-length lead?

Oh, Veronica. Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett.

She's very amusing. Very daring.

Yes, she's considered to be very fashionable, just at the moment.

This English habit of the men and their port, it is terrible.

Such infantile stories they are telling.

They are also playing a game of Baccara, Lady Montdore,

and they have let me out to the ladies on condition

I ask your permission for them.

Anything to keep them all amused.

I'd better give orders for the Baccara table.

Go and talk to him. Now, while you have the chance.

SAUVETERRE: You are Frances Logan?

Fanny.

Where is Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett?

FANNY: She went to the lav. Most of them did.

Ah, they will soon come back, now they know I am here.

Fabrice, darling, how is dear Norah des Laumes?

And Cora d'Aubusson?

And Jenny and Daisy de Gisors?

Are all French women called after English housemaids?

Sonia, darling, so blush-making in front of Fabrice!

Not at all.

Frenchmen give their daughters common English names

as it makes it easier for them

to procure your incomparable English nannies.

What English nanny would consent to take charge

of a little girl called Melisande or Albertine?

[Laughs] I guess that's right.

Let's play backgammon.

I don't know how.

Neither do I, but Boy Dougdale has promised to teach us

as soon as the gentlemen come through.

[Laughter]

Mon Dieu!

Oh.

CHAD: I'll raise the maximum to 500.

Perhaps we ought to be playing for a small stake.

I've no wish to win anything from Polly.

You're also playing against me, remember?

Let's say you get half a crown if you win,

and I get a nice, friendly kiss if I do.

Now, let's see what you've thrown.

Ah, Duchesse.

Now it's time to talk.

During dinner, I don't talk, because your food here

is so much better than your husband's conversation.

[Laughs]

Now, then, tell me,

who are those girls with whom your brother-in-law,

whose conversation is even more ennuyant than your husband's,

who are those girls with whom he now amuses himself?

The fair one is my daughter, Polly.

She needs a husband, at her age.

LADY MONTDORE: She seems incapable of love.

Who said anything about love?

A husband is what they all need

to keep them occupied with bearing children

until they are old enough and sensible enough

to select suitable lovers.

Get her a husband, dear Lady Montdore,

to see her through the season of female silliness.

When she is 35 or 40, it will be time enough to talk of love.

SAUVETERRE: But it is terrible, looking at this empty table.

FANNY: I think we must be early.

Ah, that's too bad.

I long for my porridge as you do.

But shall we go for a promenade while it is coming?

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness."

Am I not brilliant to quote your English Keats?

I do love getting up with the lark

and going for a promenade before breakfast.

FANNY: Do you always?

SAUVETERRE: Never, never, never.

But this morning I told my man to put a call through to Paris,

thinking it would take at least an hour

with your execrable telephone system,

but it came through straightaway,

so now I'm at a loose end with time on my hands.

Is somebody ill?

Not exactly, you know.

But she bores herself, poor thing.

I quite understand it.

Paris must be terrible without me,

and I don't know how she can begin to bear it.

Who?

A dear friend.

A dear friend?

And who do you think is

Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett's lover?

What's that to you?

I find her rather fascinating.

How should I know?

You seemed very interested in her last night.

You asked where she was.

Perhaps that was because I am her lover.

Or hope to become her lover.

Or hope not to become her lover and wish to avoid her.

Or have been her lover and want to be again.

Or merely to gain a mild frisson by discussion of old times.

Soyez serieux.

Very well, little Frances.

Fanny.

Very well, Fanny.

Je serai serieux.

It doesn't make a pin of difference who is her lover.

She lives in one little tiny group, and sooner or later,

everybody in that group becomes the lover of everybody else.

It's like a Cabinet re-shuffle.

They always choose out of the same old lot, you see.

FANNY: A very nasty old lot.

SAUVETERRE: Not at all, poor things.

They are les femmes du monde, voila tout, and I love them.

So easy to get on with, not nasty at all.

FANNY: Lady Montdore, not nasty at all?

SAUVETERRE: But I love la mere Montdore.

So amusing she is, with her snobbishness.

I stayed with them in India, you know,

and she was so charming,

and so was Lord Montdore, or at least pretended to be.

And Polly, was she charming?

Polly is beautiful, but she is rather a riddle to me.

Perhaps she is not having a properly organized sex life.

I would see what I could do about it for her,

but one knows so many people here,

there would be no time left over.

FANNY: Very few English girls in our position

have a properly organized sex life.

I certainly don't.

So, about you, we shall not worry... much.

Perhaps you will be a jolly bolter, like your mother.

Oh, no, I'm going to be a tremendous sticker.

SAUVETERRE: Then, about you, we shall worry even less.

But the lady Polly, what a beauty.

Yet it's not certain.

It never is, with English women.

She may just cram a felt hat on her head

and become a Lady Patricia Dougdale.

Everything depends on the lover.

Your car is here, sir.

Ah, yes, thank you. I must go.

No porridge?

Alas, no, I'm going to Newhaven to catch a boat to France.

So... now, goodbye,

jolly Bolter's daughter.

You're the bolter, deserting your own mother.

Oh, she will be entirely happy.

As long as she is fed.

But yet, I'm a bolter, I suppose.

May I salute you, Miss Fanny, as a sticker?

A tremendous sticker, for such you are.

I see it now.

Ah, I wish I had somebody like you to stick to me.

I wish you had.

But you would be unhappy,

because I shouldn't stick back...

or not for long.

Just as well for me, perhaps.

Goodbye.

Excuse me, Miss Frances,

her ladyship would like to see you in the Long Room.

Yes, yes!

Tell Lady Montdore que j'arrive, j'arrive.

[Woman singing loudly on record]

Now, Matthew.

Matthew, Matthew, you have to talk.

Matthew!

It's no good burying your head in this.

I have to speak to you. Turn that off.

Oh!

[Turns music off]

Matthew, Linda.

MATTHEW: What about her?

She's poisoning her own life and everybody else's.

MATTHEW: Why?

Because you won't let her have this boy Kroesig.

MATTHEW: Why bring that up now?

Because I've waited and hoped long enough

for you to bring it up.

MATTHEW: Why should I?

Because you must have seen how perfectly horrible she's being.

And because you know very well

that his father's now given his permission.

MATTHEW: What's that got to do with it?

Matthew, Linda is being so disagreeable

that it nearly passes all bounds.

Now, very soon, it will pass all bounds.

So, if you don't want something really nasty to happen,

and you don't want your favorite daughter

to hate you and me forever,

you'll let her marry this Tony Kroesig,

now that his father's given consent,

and put the best face you can on it.

Kroesig's a bloody Hun!

Not ideal, I know.

But it's what she wants, or thinks she wants,

so badly she's going to torture herself

and everybody else in the house till she gets it.

Well, just think, she didn't go out

with the meet at Cock's Barn!

Well, I mean...

Linda marry a Hun?

Oh, merciful heavens, Matthew!

His family has been here for generations!

And his father was knighted by the king!

[Sighs]

Well, I suppose it could have been worse.

At least the fellow's not a Roman Catholic.

Tony is bottom to Linda, isn't he?

Mm. Bottom.

This will be the first time I've seen them together.

Properly, I mean, not just dancing and so on.

He's such a bore.

B-O-O-R, B-O-R-E, or B-O-A-R?

FANNY: All three.

And as for the other Kroesigs coming this weekend,

you'd think seeing the whole horrible phalanx of them

must wake her up.

Sir Leicester and Lady Kroesig and Mr. Anthony Kroesig.

MATT: Oh, God!

Oh, how do you do?

- Oh! - Oh!

[All shouting]

[Dogs barking]

MATT: Blast Davey and his health lamp.

[Woman screams]

Oh, I do beg your pardon, Lady Kroesig.

Was that, by any chance, your foot?

DAVEY: Linda will see the light in time,

but not before it's too late, I fear.

Poor Linda.

She has such an intensely romantic character.

Fatal for a woman.

Do you understand electricity, Fanny?

- No. - Ah!

Someone to the rescue. S.O. S... . Save our souls.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Stop making beastly foreign noises

and tell me what the hell's all this!

Ah, sorry, Matthew, dear. It's my health lamp.

Well, why bring it in here, my business room?

It was the only room with the right sort of plug.

I need it for my digestion.

You know how one can never digest anything

during the winter months.

I can, damn you.

Ah, you think you can, but you can't, really.

Now, this lamp pours its rays into your system.

Your glands begin to work,

and your food does you good again.

Well, don't pour any more rays

until we've had the voltage altered.

When the house is full of bloody Huns,

one wants to be able to see what the hell they're all up to!

Good God!

Hmm?

And how was the Kroesig visit?

Well, Davey didn't help by fusing the lights.

Mm. Pity he didn't electrocute the lot of them.

You don't seem to like them very much.

Aren't you pleased about my engagement?

No, of course not.

Why are you doing it?

I'm in love.

Oh? What makes you think so?

One doesn't think. One knows.

Fiddlesticks.

Well, you obviously don't understand about love,

so what's the use of talking to you?

Neither do silly, little, half-baked girls

understand about love.

Love, as you will discover one of these days,

is for grown-up people.

So, for God's sake, and for all our sakes,

don't go and marry a bore like Tony Kroesig.

[Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" plays]

FANNY: When Linda's wedding was over,

I motored down to Hampton with Polly and Lady Montdore

to spend a few days there.

I love being so dry in here

and seeing all those poor people so wet.

FANNY: I was grateful to Polly for suggesting this,

because I remembered all too well that horrible feeling

of anticlimax that there'd been after Louisa's wedding.

I was quite amused... weren't you?...

to see the difference between our side of the church

and the Kroesig's side.

Bankers don't seem to be much to look at.

So extraordinarily unsuitable having to know them at all,

poor things, let alone marry them.

Did you see the mingy things those Kroesigs gave poor Linda?

A check?

Yes, that's all very well, but for how much, I wonder.

Cultured pearls and a hideous little bracelet.

No tiara, no necklace?

What's will the poor child wear at court?

Ah, but then Sadie was so nice.

And Linda, oh, she was so puddy.

Lovely, Lady Montdore. She was lovely.

Well, yes, dear, I would admit, coming down the aisle,

she looked quite lovely.

Now, Polly, I want to know

exactly what you did yesterday in London.

You got there about 12:00.

Wait a minute. I must get rid of this thing.

It's giving me a headache.

You've no idea how that hurt.

And, so, Polly, you arrived in London about 12:00, and then...

Daddy went straight to his appointment,

and I had an early luncheon at Rutland Gardens.

By yourself?

No, Boy was there.

He'd looked in to return

some books about the dukes of Norfolk,

and there was plenty of food, so I made him stay.

Well, go on.

After luncheon?

Hair.

Washed and set?

How else?

Oh, you'd hardly think it.

We must find you a better hairdresser.

No use asking Fanny about one.

Her hair always looks like a mop.

It was quite all right until I had to put that wreath on it.

Never mind that for now.

After the hairdresser?

Tea with daddy at the house, and then back to Hampton.

Is that all?

May Day, I think.

May Day for what?

May Day for Polly's ball.

Good. It must either be the first or the last ball

of the season if people are to remember it.

Not the last, on any account.

Or I should have to invite all the girls

whose dances Polly had been to.

And nothing's as fatal to a ball as too many girls.

What is the use

of going into all this if I can get no help

and no interest from Polly?

Oh, take this evening, for instance.

She wouldn't even condescend to dine with us.

The child did say she had a headache.

Do I never have a headache?

One does everything for these girls.

Everything!

Haven't a minute to see my own friends.

I keep the London house going with a huge staff

eating their heads off simply for her convenience.

And do you think she's grateful?

Sulky and disagreeable the entire day long.

Can hardly get a word out of her.

And then I go to endless trouble

to see that she can go and stay in nice houses,

and the only one she wants to go to

are that madhouse at Alconleigh and that little cottage,

which is all you can call it, of Davey and Emily Warbeck's.

And the plain fact remains Polly won't... can't...

ever meet a single soul there.

And if she never meets anyone, how can she marry them?

But is there so much hurry for her to marry?

She'll be 20 in May.

She can't go on like this forever.

What can be the matter with her?

So beautiful, and no B.A. At all.

S.A., Sonia, or B.O.

S.A., B. O... . Perfect rubbish and bosh.

None of it existed when we were young.

All the same, now that they've been invented,

I suppose it's better if the girls do have them,

because their partners seem to like it.

And Polly hasn't a vestige of either, you can see that.

One thing I never expected

was that she might end up an old maid!

Come now, Sonia, the poor girl is still in her teens.

Which does not explain why she has no come-hither in her eye.

And why she leaves the light on in her bathroom

night after night after night.

FANNY: Lady Montdore was very mean about modern inventions,

such as the electric light.

Next thing...

do you want to go to the Montdore's ball for Polly?

Montdore's a great man in his way.

If Montdore asks us, I think we ought to go.

It's Sonia who asks us.

The old she-wolf!

I shall never know what came over Montdore

to make him marry her.

I suppose, at the time,

he didn't realize how utterly poisonously bloody she is.

Oh, darling, darling!

Utterly bloody!

But if Montdore asks us,

I suppose we ought to go.

But as we are between daughters...

two married and two not yet out...

there's no occasion whatsoever for us to go

if you'd rather not.

No, if Montdore asks us to his ball,

it's because he expects to see us there,

and I think we ought to go.

[Groans]

[Yawns]

Well, at least look at the Mangioli while you're here.

Awful tripe.

Fellow wouldn't be simpering away like that.

He'd be dead with all those arrows in him.

I wouldn't give you seven and six for it.

Oh, shh, shh, shh.

Montdore! Pleasure and privilege to be here.

- Ah. - Happy occasion and all that.

Montdore, dear,

the German Ambassadress, sitting there quite alone.

Serve her right.

But, my dear Matthew, just the very man.

Baroness von Ravensbruck,

may I present my neighbor, Lord Alconleigh?

Supper is quite ready in the music room.

Good.

Just over there, Matthew.

No man living, other than your husband,

could have made Matthew take a German in to supper.

[Both laugh]

And here comes Emily.

We always have ours together at dances,

a sort of funny, old sister thing,

left over from the nursery.

Sadie, dear.

When was the first ball you ever came to here?

The year I came out, 1906.

I remember the excitement

of actually seeing Edward Vll in the flesh.

And hearing his loud, foreign laugh.

Yes.

Yes, I thought it was then.

I remember that ball so well.

Just before Boy and I were married.

Do you remember, during the war,

people said we should never see this sort of thing again,

and yet, look.

Only look at the jewels.

[Scoffs] No jewel what I've been having supper with.

Damned old German cannibal.

Kept on asking for more fleisch.

Can't have swallowed her dinner more than an hour ago.

I pretended not to hear her.

I wasn't going to pander to the old ogress.

Well, after all, who won the war?

Wonderful public-spirited of Montdore

to put up with all this foreign trash in house.

I'm blowed if I would.

- I ask you... - Hmm?

Look at that sewer.

Come now, Matthew, the Serbs were our allies, you know.

Oh, so that's a Serb, is it?

Needs a shave.

Hogs, one and all.

Of course, Montdore only does it for the sake of his country.

Thinks of nothing but his duty. What an example to everyone.

And Sonia, too.

She's phenomenal.

Better looking and better dressed than she's ever been.

But a little tired.

Perhaps I should see if I can be of help.

Poor, old Patricia.

She's the one who's tired.

What with that liver and that ghastly husband.

And talking of ghastly husbands,

what have you done with yours?

Tony's gone home early. Tired after the city.

So, you're free to dance with me.

Oh, the bliss of it, Dave.

I've got ever so many questions.

I hardly hear anything these days.

Tony's such and old stay-at-home.

We only go out to other bank people.

Oh, you're such an old gossip.

What's all this about Polly?

Fanny reports daggers between her and old mother Montdore.

[Davey laughs]

Polly seems to spend all her time

dancing with her father or Boy Dougdale.

Boy Dougdale, blasted lady's maid.

I can't stand the sewer.

And talking of sewers,

who's that young brute who Fanny's dancing with?

He's called Alfred Wincham.

Alfred what? Well, who is he?

Wincham, Matthew.

He's a don at Oxford.

Oxford?

I hope she didn't meet the sewer

while she was staying at my house.

No, Matthew, dear.

She met him with Davey and me

while he was staying with his aunt in Herne Bay.

I'm quite sure Fanny will introduce him to you

at the end of this dance.

For pity's sake, Emily! Young hog!

What an old Pasha you are, Matthew.

You cannot keep all your female relations

in a permanent condition of virginity.

That Polly looks as if she's going to be a longtime virgin.

I shouldn't care for any of my girls to look like that.

But Fanny looks happy.

Bless her heart.

I see what they mean about Polly Hampton.

A beauty, all right,

but she doesn't attract me with that sullen expression.

Hello, my sweet. What news of the Bolter?

And are you still in love?

Who is that woman? And who's the Bolter?

And with whom are you in love?

That woman is the celebrated Mrs. Chaddesley-Corbett.

The Bolter's a nickname for my mother.

How about love?

Nothing. Just a joke.

Good.

I should like you to be on the verge of love

and not yet quite in it.

That's a very nice state of mind

while it lasts.

Don't say he had it on him. Already?

Just like The Making of a Marchioness?

Just like, except it's not a ruby.

Quite the size of a pigeon's egg, though.

You are lucky.

Oh, I wish I was a boy.

What an extraordinary notion.

Then there'd be none of this nagging.

And daddy would have a proper heir and not this cousin

from Nova Scotia we've never even seen.

Ah, the girls.

Talking balls, I suppose, as usual.

You going to Leverettes tonight, Fanny?

Oh, give me some tea, Polly, dear, I'm quite dead.

Such an afternoon with the grand duchess.

Fanny's engaged.

To Alfred Wincham.

Well, that's very nice, I suppose.

Alfred what? Who is he?

Tea, tea!

Alfred Wincham. He's a don at Oxford.

A don! How extraordinary!

Daddy likes dons.

He's always asking them to dinner.

Oh, Montdore may have them over

from time to time in the country,

but that's no reason why they should be allowed

to go marrying people.

Very unsuitable of them.

Whatever does Emily say?

She's awfully pleased.

Oh! Emily and Sadie are hopeless.

We must think how we can get you out of it.

Could you ring up and say you changed your mind?

- No, I can't! - Well, why not?

It isn't in the paper yet.

It will be tomorrow.

Ah, that's where I can be so helpful.

I'll send for Geoffrey Dawson now and have it stopped.

Oh, no, Lady Montdore, please not!

But she wants to marry him, mummy.

She's in love.

Love? Look where love landed her mother.

Whoever invented love ought to be shot.

Fanny's engaged, mummy.

Look at her pretty ring.

Oh, I am looking at it.

And what I ask myself is, love or no love,

when are you going to have one like it?

Oh, better, of course, far better than Fanny's.

A real ruby, to say the least, and not coming from any don.

But an engagement ring.

Do you intend to go mooning on like this forever?

What else can I do?

You haven't exactly trained me for a career, have you?

Oh, yes, I have. I've trained you for marriage.

And how can I marry if nobody asks me?

And why don't they ask you?

Because you give them no encouragement.

No man likes to make love to a dummy, you know.

It's far too gruesome.

I don't want to be made love to.

Then what do you want?

Oh, leave me alone, mother, please!

To stay on here with us until you're old?

Daddy wouldn't mind.

Oh, yes, he would.

Well, not for a year or two, maybe,

but nobody wants their girls to be hanging about forever,

a sour old maid.

And you'll be the sour kind, that's obvious already.

You'll be wizened up and sour!

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