All language subtitles for The Last September (1999 - Deborah Warner)

She wants sorrel soup.

Sorrel soup?

Where am I to get sorrel,
I'd like to know?

There's a fine clump of nettles,
out by the dairy. . .

Nettle soup?

It's a County Cork specialty.

They'll never
know the difference.

You should really
push it on to Mrs. H ugo. . .

Lois. . .

Ah, Colthurst!
Welcome, welcome!

- Isn't she a beauty?
- Very fine, sir.

Would you like some poteen?
Best in the country.

Myra won't let me have it
above stairs.

- D'you fancy a drop?
- No, thank you, sir.

I'm sure Sarah could get you a beer,
if you'd rather.

No. . . I wanted to talk to you
about Lois, amongst other things.

- Lois?
- Yeah.

They say that young scamp
Peter Connelly is still about.

Connelly?

Oh, Richard!
Look, Richard!

Richard, look,
those disgusting ants are back.

- So they are.
- Oh, do something.

- They're just ants, Myra.
- Richard. . .

Sarah! Is the water
boiled for the tea?

- Here it is, ma'am.
- Bring it here, then.

- Out here?
- For the ants, dear, the ants.

- Ah, here they come.
- Trust them to be early.

Hello-- oh, really. . .
Hello!

"Darling, darling."

"H ugo, H ugo."

- Hello.
- Hello.

Hello, H ugo.

Richard, you're looking well.

- I'm so dusty.
- Oh, dear.

And this is the niece?

Yes, this is our Lois.
She's left school, you know.

- Oh, my dear, so young.
- I should never have known you.

Danielstown's looking lovely.

You came through safe?
Nobody at the crossroads?

- Nobody stopped you?
- No, the roads were empty.

- Quite a day.
- Shall we have tea?

- This dust.
- The ants.

Oh.

Now, that'll put manners
on them.

Poor things.

Daventry, what the devil. . .?

Thanks.

What a peculiar person.

It's so nice, the way you have
the house full of young people.

Oh, dear.
Someone's left the window open.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

There.

It's Laurence, my nephew.

He's with us a good deal
before he gets back to Oxford.

He's very intellectual,
you know.

- Though he does play tennis.
- Ah.

It's so good to have you
back with us, Francie,

after all this time.

And you're looking so well.

Oh, it really is too much.

See? I told Lois
to change these books.

- She's so sweet.
- Mmm.

Like her mother.

Mind you, she's not
much like her in character.

There's a good deal
of her father there.

- Shall I help you unpack?
- Oh, no, no.

H ugo always does
that sort of thing.

- Does he?
- Yes.

Oh, dear H ugo.

Well, if there's
anything you need. . .

"You made me happy,
sometimes. . .

You made me glad. . .

But there were times, baby,

You made me feel so bad. . ."

So you've given up
on Canada, then, have you?

I don't think
it was ever on, really.

Would have been
a bit of a wrench for Francie.

Oh, yes.
A wrench for everybody.

I've sold Rockriver,
you know?

The house?
And. . .?

And. . .

and now we have no home.

"Gimme, gimme,
gimme-gimme. . .

What I cry for. . .

You know you got
the kinda kisses. . .

That I'd die for.

You know you made me. . .

love you."

I ntolerable.

I'm off.

Hang on, don't leave me.

I can't help you
with her, you know.

Oh, there you are.

What are they thinking of?
It's like night in here.

Sorry, old girl.
Richard's in his usual form.

I thought I'd never
get up to you at all.

What a confounded racket!

So energetic.

I say, there's some kind
of guard down there.

- What?
- Soldiers. Look.

I'm sure they're
just here for Lois.

U h-huh.

- Not too tired?
- Oh, no.

Well. . .

perhaps a little.

It all seems the same as ever.

- Certainly Myra is.
- Myra.

Of course, she never ages.

Aren't nails the most
disgusting things?

J ust growing out of one,
yards and yards of them.

I did think Myra looked
a little strained today.

I think Richard's worried,
frankly.

Doesn't show it, of course.

If you were to believe him,
you'd imagine we were in Kent.

All the same,
the game is up.

"Doomed, m'dear.
All doomed."

Must be extraordinary
being an orphan.

Lois, I mean.

Well. . .

she's not,
strictly speaking, is she?

- An orphan?
- Yeah.

I know the father's
still around somewhere.

Africa, I believe.

But he's a bounder.
Hardly what you'd call a father.

No, the poor thing's
quite alone.

Confusion on people
who put flowers on dressing tables.

"You have the loveliest
soft eyes."

Silly.

Ah, cigarettes. . .

Must just. . .

You do look sweet.

Black is so striking.

Aunt Myra isn't sure
about black for girls.

But you're not a girl.
You're quite grown up.

And I expect you're having. . .
a wonderful time?

Yes, I suppose I am.

That young man,
that was your cousin Laurence?

I'm U ncle Richard's niece,
and he's Aunt Myra's nephew,

so I don't know that we're
really related at all.

Everything is so
complicated over here.

No wonder we poor English
find it all so baffling.

I'm afraid I had. . . no idea
how to talk to him.

You can talk to him
about anything, really.

- Except politics.
- Oh?

He's not allowed to talk
about politics here,

since the ones he brings over
from Oxford are all wrong.

Oh.

I saw someone today.

I n the trees,
down by the drive.

My dear. . .

what is that thing?

- It's Lloyd George.
- Who?

We call him Lloyd George.
My father sent him.

I think it was his idea
of a joke.

Shoo!

Ah, Francie!

Down already.

Oh, dear,
really is too bad.

Myra's delayed as usual.

I'd always be late
if I had a home of my own.

It's very nice weather
for the time of year.

We could all sit out
in the steps tonight.

Or do you sleep after dinner?

Sleep? No.

It's what I chiefly remember
about you.

I think you're mixing me up
with someone else.

Won't we get shot
if we sit out on the steps?

Well, we haven't been
so far.

Even with the soldiers here,

and Lois dancing with officers,
up and down the avenue.

But seriously. . .

They said in County Carlow,
as we were coming down,

that things were
really very bad here.

That's County Carlow all over.
There's a great rivalry, you see.

- We always beat them.
- Beat them?

- At the football.
- Oh, football.

Oh. . .

you've dressed.

Richard, they've dressed.

We're getting so. . .

so bucolic down here.

My dear, Francie
was wondering. . .

whether we shouldn't have
a machine gun to protect ourselves.

Francie!

Well, shall we go in?

Thank you, dear.

Ah. . . !

From all the talk,
one might think

almost anything was going to happen.
But we don't listen.

Of course, when you talk
to the people themselves,

they tell you
the whole thing's nonsense.

I had a long chat this morning
with Mrs. Grogan.

She said, "Tis the way
o' the young to be a bit wild."

That was her judgement
of so-called war.

I said, "some of your friends
would like us to go."

Well, she was so indignant.

She was so. . .
oh, thank you.

Yes, she almost wept.

She's a very interesting woman,
she thinks a great deal.

Of course, our people do think.
Not at all like the English.

The Hartigans were telling me. . .
By the way, H ugo,

the Hartigans are coming
tomorrow for tennis.

- Ah!
- Yes.

- Tennis?
- Yes, dear, I told you.

The Hartigans and one
or two of the regiment.

Will your captain
be able to get away?

This country is altogether
too full of soldiers.

With nothing to do
but dance,

and poke old women
out of bed to look for guns.

It would be a great pity
if we were to become a republic,

and all those lovely troops
were taken away.

I say, the blighters
should be rounded up,

and put on a prison ship,
and sent to the tropics.

- Like my father.
- Lois. . .

What do you think?

About what?

The situation.

Closing in, I think.
Rolling up.

H ugo, you mustn't
make Laurence exaggerate.

It's the Oxford
influence on him.

- What's that?
- Shhh!

A furtive lorry
is a sinister thing.

Laurence.
It isn't furtive.

If it wouldn't be taken
in some absurd kind of way. . .

as a demonstration, I'd invite
the poor fellows in for coffee.

Colthurst's chaps.

Out every night.

Tomfoolery.

You sound as if
you're on their side.

- Whose side?
- Well, the Irish.

Why wouldn't I be?

I am Irish.

We all are here.

Except you, my dear.

Richard,
would you like a brandy?

I must go in.

This damp.

Your captain doesn't have
much to say for himself.

He's not "my captain."

Doesn't he write to you?

Miss Marda Norton
on the telephone.

Mmm, Marda Norton?
Oh, good.

She's decided to come early.
She'll be here tomorrow.

Dear me, we shall be
a full house.

Laurence. . .

there's an ants' nest there.
You're sitting on it.

Not since you made Sarah
scald them all to death.

Richard should be here soon. . .

"You made me sad. . .

"but there
were times, when. . ."

Oh, it's you!

Sorry. Did I startle you?
Who d'you think I was?

What are you doing,
creeping about there?

- Well, my men are down the road.
- Your men?

Yes. . .

We had a bit. . .
a bit of an adventure tonight.

You mustn't write such things
to me, you know.

Oh. . . Did you get my letter?

I'll come
to the tennis party.

Aunt Myra invited you,
didn't she?

Yes.

Well, I see you
at the party, then.

- Gerald. . .?
- Yes?

Nothing.

Oh, you dope.

I was thinking. . .

if Gerald were with us
and we met some of them,

would Gerald have to shoot at them,
or would he be off-duty?

- "Them"?
- You know, rebels.

They might shoot Gerald.

Oh, no.
Not with me there.

Well, they know me.

She's lost a suitcase!

O'Brien!

I need to go to town.
Miss Norton has lost a suitcase.

It suits you.

Such a fuss!

The train made off
with one of my suitcases,

and now there's a council meeting
to decide what to do about it.

The young man is all
for motoring off in pursuit.

- Laurence?
- Yes, that's the one.

He's quite excitable.
He insists he met me in London,

but I'm afraid
I just don't remember.

Then, there's the other woman.
H ugo's wife, you know. . .

Francie?

Yes, isn't she. . . his mother?
Practically?

Faintly resentful.

I expect she thinks me
a vamp.

Do you?

- What?
- Do you think that I'm a vamp?

Oh, God.

- Livvy, was that you?
- Did she arrive?

- Who?
- Miss Norton, of course.

Murphy at the station
said he saw O'Brien

collecting a woman in a fur
in the pony and trap.

Is she pretty? How old is she?
Is she engaged?

I don't know.

She used to come to Danielstown
when she was young.

She knows H u--
Mr. Montmorency.

She's quite old.

That must have been
a disappointment!

Yes, Mr. Montmorency,
I believe.

You mean he. . .?
Oh!

That was years ago, of course.

After he was in love with Mummy,
and before he met Francie. . .

There seem to be more people
here than I thought we'd asked.

Lois is so free
with invitations!

She is so sweet.
Where is she, by the way?

Here is that appalling
Vermont woman.

She will insist on
talking about her insides.

Look at the state of you.

Will you not get up
and play a game?

Isn't it a grand day?

Grand.

You're such a sourpuss.

I didn't see you at the
Mount Isabel bicycle gymkhana.

I thought you said
you'd be there.

Something came up.

I suppose you had to go
and shoot somebody.

That's right.

Any news
of that brother of yours?

What have you said to her?
Livvy?

Livvy?

- What did he say to you?
- Nothing.

Was it about Peter?

I'm going home.

Lady Myra,
have you seen Lois?

Gerald, would you mind
fetching some rugs?

People will insist
on sitting on the grass,

- and it's far from dry.
- Yes, of course.

What do you suppose
she thinks she's doing. . .

having a tennis party
in the midst of a war?

And what do you think
you're doing?

Why are you here
if you don't like it?

I was happy here
at your age.

I asked nothing better.

I should like something
to happen. . .

something real.

I should like to be here
when this house burns.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

And it will burn.

And when it does, we will all
be so careful not to notice.

- Isn't this splendid?
- Yes. Most enjoyable.

You haven't seen Lois, have you?
Myra. . .

I do think
it's so sporting. . .

the way you all just stay here
and keep going.

Who'd have thought the Irish
would turn out so disloyal?

- The lower classes, of course.
- It'd be a pity to have a war.

There's been enough
unpleasantness already.

Peter.

- Connelly!
- Get away from here!

You have no business
coming here.

Come out!
We know you're in there.

Livvy, go inside.
Go inside this minute.

I won't until these. . .

Livvy, Livvy.

Oh, I say,
it's damn bad form. . .

hiding behind
your womenfolk.

- Don't you, lads?
- I'll get behind his womenfolk.

You're being
beastly to poor Livvy.

She's quite smitten
with you, you know.

I hope you're not
being snobbish, I mean. . .

with her people
being in trade.

The police barracks in Ballydrum
was attacked last night,

just before midnight.

Two policemen were burnt alive.

The others were shot
as they were surrendering.

The telegraph wires had been cut,
and the road was blocked.

There was no one
to send for help,

so there was no help for them.

Our chaps arrived too late. . .

as usual.

Oh, good heavens.

Oh, Francie.
You'll catch your death.

- No, I'm all right, really.
- Come along. . .

No, H ugo would
never forgive me.

Tea, or a nip of brandy,
perhaps?

No, nothing, really.

Isn't that young
Captain Colthurst devoted?

"Devoted"?

To Lois. And yet he seems so. . .
so troubled.

I suppose it's being
in the Army,

and being on guard
all the time.

It will be most unfortunate
if he is sweet on her.

I mean, seriously so.

U nfortunate?

It's impossible, of course.

I mean, he's charming. . .
certainly.

He seems to have no relations.

He says his mother
lives in Surrey.

Really, my dear. . . Surrey.

I'm not saying his people
are in trade.

I'd never say a thing
like that without knowing.

Besides, if they were in trade,
there'd be money,

and money
on that sort does show,

and he obviously
hasn't any.

But is that fair
on the young man?

Fair?

Well, to let him. . .
keep coming here like that.

Shouldn't somebody tell him?

Certainly.

I must have a serious talk
with Lois about her future.

We think for Lois
an art school.

But don't you think
that Lois. . .?

Pissing again, sergeant?

You must have a bad bladder.

Of course, they would
all insist on champagne.

- And then Leslie said. . .
- Here you are, ladies.

Thank you.

Halt!

You, man.

On your knees, chappie.

Our Father . . .
Our Father who art in heaven.

Hallowed be thy name,
thy kingdom come. . .

It really wouldn't matter,

except that
my walking shoes are in it,

and I feel that I must
have walking shoes.

Yes, well, your case
may have come back by now.

I don't lose things,
except coming here.

I'm efficient, really.

It seems to be
a kind of fatality.

We'll send O'Brien
in the trap to the station.

Ah, James.

Good day to you.

What is the news?

They have found your man.

Oh, yes?

It was a sad thing.

But he wasn't liked,
the same fella.

Who was that?

The sergeant.
The Tan, Wilson.

Oh, he was well known.

And what happened, James?

They took him on the street.

Gave him a hiding and. . .

then brought him
across the fields,

and made him strip off
every stitch he was wearing,

and put a bullet in him.

The poor fellow.

Young Connelly it was
that done it, they say.

Ah. . .

he's a wild one, all right.

All this violence.

They're after you already. . .
the young men.

Richard.

I really think I must
have walking shoes.

- I'll drive you into town. . .
- We'll send O'Brien.

Anyone interested in getting
the benefit of this sunshine?

It won't last the morning.

- A walk, yes.
- I'm afraid I can't.

I can lend you a pair of shoes.
We're about the same size.

Laurence, you stay here.
Keep Francie company.

- Have you done the flowers?
- I'll do them later.

- Lois, you're not even dressed.
- I know just the ones. . .

Of course, Aunt Myra will keep
asking me what I'm going to do.

She wants to send me to Paris. . .

to learn to paint properly.

She says. . .
every young girl

should have something
a husband could be proud of.

Oh, it's such a bore.

- You're right, they do fit.
- Oh, good.

I lost a ring somewhere
about here, once.

Did you?
What sort of ring?

Engagement, as it happens.
Awkward.

Did your fiance mind
very much?

No, not very much.

I mean, not as much as Myra
and, of course, Richard.

But he was killed
on the Somme-- my fiance.

But he had two sons first.
I mean, he had married.

He was so young
to be a father. . .

to be dead.

I used to play here
when I was little.

I've never met anyone so. . .
determined to be in love.

Lois?

Well, there is
that young man. . .

Oh, thank you. . .

Harold? Gerald?

They dance on the avenue.

- Like rabbits.
- Hares.

What?

Hares dance, not rabbits.

Oh.

What a countryman you are.
Quite the shepherd's almanac.

Is this Gerald supposed to be
in love with her?

I imagine so.

Myra doesn't think
it's suitable at all,

and won't hear
a word of it.

Personally,
I can't think it necessary

for a girl her age
to love anybody.

But one always has
the idea of love.

I haven't.

Yes, but. . .

you're married.

Goodness, Lois.

You look as though
you've seen a ghost.

Have you had
a Proustian moment?

I think I'm gonna go back now.
I feel a bit funny.

What an odd child.

- Do you think so?
- Mmm-hmmm.

She reminds me of me. . .

when I was that age.

It'll rain again by lunchtime.

She's in love, all right.

I'm going to marry, you know.

What?

Perhaps you know him. . .
Leslie Lawes, stockbroker?

Fishes a lot,
people from Neath.

There, I've blurted it out.

I should have told
Richard and Myra,

but that wretched suitcase
kept on getting in the way.

And, anyway, they think
my engagement's fantastic.

They've all come to nothing.

Hello?

- When?
- Mmm?

When will you marry?

Oh. . .

Soon.

This winter.

It'll make a nice break.

I expect you'll go
somewhere sunny.

Yes.
Leslie is quite rich.

I thought you didn't
believe in it.

- Marriage?
- Yes.

I never said so,
you said you never would,

and then you went and did,
and now it's too late.

I expect. . .

I shan't be that different.

Perhaps to be shot. . .

would not be so bad.

It would solve so many things.

Hello.

- I love. . .
- Oh, but look. . .

- But I love. . .
- What are you doing here?

- I've come for lunch.
- You ought to tell someone.

I can't think why you're
being so. . .

sudden all of a sudden.
I n every way.

I haven't even done these flowers yet.
Look. . .

The gong's about to go.

How do you know I'm not in love
with a married man or something?

Lois,
I thought about you last night,

up in the mountains,
when you were asleep.

We were out all night,
practically.

Gerald, darling.

Did you have breakfast, even?

What were you saying, Lois?

What did you call me, then?

When?

J ust now, before the. . .

before the thing.

The gong?

Yes, the gong.
What. . .?

You're sopping wet.

You're steaming, practically.
You smell like a dog.

You know, I'd die for you.

What did I say?

Say it.

"Darling."

Of course, her people
were utterly impossible.

Marda, my dear,
I've been on to lost property. . .

Marda, dear, look at you,
you're soaked.

No, it's just
some drops from the trees.

H ugo, how could you
let her get so wet?

Myra, dear,
I'm not an umbrella.

There's no sign of it,
they say, but I thought. . .

Good heavens.

Gerald, are you all right?

Come.

I wondered. . .

I wondered if I could
show you my drawings.

- They're fearfully bad.
- Do sit.

I shan't be a moment.

- Lunch is being served.
- I'm not hungry, somehow.

That's done.
I've clinched the deal.

The deal?

Yes. . .

Mr. Lawes.
Leslie by name.

My intended.

I told him I had to come here
to clear everything up.

I'm terribly sorry.
I didn't mean to intrude.

But you haven't.

Cigarette?

Thanks.

I had rather thought
that you'd come to confess.

Confess?

To a secret love.

Didn't you meet
someone at the mill?

No.

I didn't see anyone.

Oh. . .

Why do you stay here?

Well, I don't have
anybody else, you see.

Only U ncle Richard
and Aunt Myra.

- Ever been abroad?
- Abroad! No.

You should travel.

I'd be interested
in what happens to you.

And don't expect to be. . .

"touched" or changed.

That's the advice of someone
who is immensely old,

one just watches. . .

What's it like being engaged?

I suggested to Leslie. . .

that we write to Eton
and put down the names

of the two boys that we. . .

should hope to have.

And he was terribly shocked.

Oh, my dear, you mustn't,

you mustn't let things. . .

go, they're so. . .

terribly difficult to get back
once they've gone.

Now this young
corporal of yours,

what's his name? I've forgotten.
I mean, his first name?

Gerald.
He's a captain, actually.

He seems very dashing
and very eager.

- He kissed me.
- Did he? When?

J ust now. When you all. . .

You poor dear.

There you are,
trying to have a romance

and we come along
clumping over it.

I thought that you
were a little bit derange.

Well. . . he says he. . .

he cares for me, but. . .

Did you have
difficulty beginning?

I can't remember.

Gerald, I'm sure he's. . .

terribly brave and so on, but. . .

I think they're all
like that underneath.

They're the weaker sex, really.

Not all of them.

Surely there are other kinds?

Not in my experience.

And I have had. . .

a lot of experience.

Lady Myra, I've got to go.

Oh, dear.
Oh, what a pity.

There were so many things
I wanted to ask you.

You know, about the Army.

You know, what you do.

Well, well. . .

it's Little Red Riding Hood.

They'll put you in jail,
you know.

Cut off your hair,

and make you run through
the barracks in your knickers.

- Why did you come here?
- To see you.

I remember when we
used to play here.

You and Livvy and me.

I was the miller
and you were my helpers.

Those summers. So hot.

You wouldn't have a fag,
I suppose?

No.

Did you kill that sergeant?

What's his name, Wilson?

I sure did.

And. . .

were you in that ambush
on the police station?

- Why do you want to know?
- Were you?

What do you think?

I must go.

Don't forget those cigarettes.

"Gold Flake".

Get Livvy
to pinch them from the shop.

Well?

Well what?

Out for a spin, were you?

- Will you stay for the dance?
- What dance?

Well, the officers' wives
are organizing a dance,

up at the camp.

Well, how could I resist?

I'd like you to stay.

I'd like. . .

- How's your fiance?
- Mr. Lawes?

Terribly glad it's all
decided, at last.

- Does he write?
- Yes, he does write.

Very businesslike.

"The papers are
being drawn up," he says.

I think he's going to float
our marriage on the Stock Exchange.

But it's not
the worst choice, you know.

What?

- Safety.
- Hello, there!

Captain Colthurst.
What an unexpected pleasure.

- Splendid day, what?
- Absolutely.

I must go.
I have to get back and do the flowers.

Quite abrupt,
these country girls.

Dashed if I can
understand them.

Perhaps it's because. . .

we're Irish.

We look like you,
and we speak like you.

Well, almost.
But we're not. . .

Well, we're not you, are we?

Sorry, I don't follow.

Well, we're not so much. . .

a people as a tribe, really.

And, of course. . .

tribal people always. . .

prefer their own.

- Their own?
- Yes.

Even. . .

if their own. . .

come from a different tribe.

I mean, take Lois,
going about the country like. . .

a "chieftainess" or something.

Very Irish.

D'you see what I mean?

Good day to you now, missus.

I want to see Livvy.

She's with her mother.

Will you call her for me?

Miss Lois, I think
you'd be better advised. . .

I'm not the Army, you know.

Some cigarettes, please.

"Gold Flake."

Ah, Miss Lois.

For Miss Norton.

They say he's been
seen about the fields.

- Seen?
- So they say.

You're keeping a watch
on the shop?

- Around the clock.
- Good.

I hear the mother
is very bad now.

Yes.

It would be a hellish thing. . .
to trap him that way.

Oh, hellish, yes.

They won't win,
you know, sir.

My dear chap, they will.
It's only a matter of time.

But we've got to make it
as hard for them as possible.

That's important
for afterwards, you see?

Sorry?

We've got to spoil it
for them, that's the point.

You're losing a bit
of the jolly old Empire--

territory, revenue, subjects.

When that's gone,
England will still be there.

But we are losing a country. . .

a world.

The difference is
that you don't care.

Flanders saw to that.

But we do.

We care.

D'you follow me?

"We"?

The Irish.

But they're Irish, too.

Exactly.

You wanted
to speak to me about. . .?

Oh, Lois,
yes, of course.

You see, the thing is,
O'Brien came to me.

You know my man, O'Brien.

He tells me
that Lois has been seen

wandering about
the countryside.

- Yes?
- Not safe, man. . .

With hotheads like young
Connelly roaming around.

I've tried speaking to her. . .

but she's a willful child,
as you're aware, I'm sure.

You see, they knew each other
as children.

She and Connelly,
and Connelly's sister.

You've met her-- Livvy.

Yes.
They used to play together.

Things were easier
in those days.

No, I think
the only thing for it. . .

is to find young
Connelly,

and make him safe.

I mean, the womenfolk
have to be protected.

"Make him safe"?

Well. . .

I think that's
the thing to do. . .

don't you?

I'm. . . I'm not. . .

Good, good, I'm so glad
we understand each other.

So, are you looking
forward to the dance?

Splendid idea.

Does wonders for the morale,
that sort of thing.

Good night.

I'll see you out.

Thanks for coming.

Thank you, sir.

Bye-bye.

Why do you keep on?

To get rid of your crowd.

Why else?

We want our chance.

Where will we go?

Wherever you like.

Back to England.

Back?

What's the matter?

Oh, look.

O'Brien's
taken down the nets.

Oh, honestly,
at the first shower of rain.

Dratted fellow.

They long for it to be winter,
you know.

It's a thing I've noticed.

Tennis without a net
is not much of a game.

Can't we get him
to put it back?

Well, let's play H unt.

It's a grand game.
We used to play it as children.

Dear me.

What is she up to now?

- Who?
- Marda.

She's hatching something.
Look.

Shall we spin?

I can't say I'm entirely sorry
she's going soon.

She's such a disruption.

And I don't think she has
at all a good effect on H ugo.

H ugo?

You must have noticed.

It's something I can't speak
to poor Francie about,

but I know she's noticed.

I know she's unhappy.

Of course,
she always is unhappy,

but she's unhappy now
in a different way.

It's so, so delicate.
One could easily say too much.

No, what H ugo needs
is real trouble.

If Francie were to die. . .

- Is she seriously. . .?
- Oh, no. No, no. . .

I'm sure he'll die first.

He has just that way
of avoiding things.

Tally-ho!

I'm on you, Miss Norton.

Oh.

Watch it.

I say.
Caught, what?

Caught.

Is that the gun you shot
the sergeant with?

It is.

Can't you see the notch
here on the butt?

What's it like?

What, killing?

Ah, you get used to it.

You're always staring at me.
D'you know that?

What are you looking for?

Come on.

Is that Colthurst?

Yes, it is.

Look at the cut of him.

What'll you say?

I'll say you held me hostage.

Give me that.

You'll have to wound me,
or they won't believe me.

Go on.

Lois?!

That's my last round.

Lois!

Lois, what. . .

Stay here. Stay there!

Jesus.

Not in the back, man.
Not in the back!

Jesus Christ!

I say, old girl.

Why don't you
take me for a nice walk?

I think Lois
wishes to be alone.

Well, niecey?

Heigh-ho, uncle.

What a thing, eh?

I don't know
what the world's coming to.

Where's your gallant soldier?

He seems. . .

to be fond of you.

Mmm.

I hear his regiment
might be moving up to Carlow.

Not far, of course, but still. . .

you'd miss them.

You'd miss
the tennis and so on.

Others would come.

You're sure?

Yes.

Quite sure?

We just want you to be happy.

That's all we want for you.

I am happy.

Good.

And stay away from that mill.

Dangerous times, niecey.

Captain Colthurst.
Oh, how good of you to come.

I hope I'm not taking
you away from your duties.

Not at all.

How is. . .

how is Lois?

Lois?
Quite recovered, I think.

It was a small wound.

Is there any news
of Peter Connelly?

Not yet,
but we'll get him.

I was told
that you had him.

Livvy is beside herself,
of course.

She won't show her face.

Oh, the greenfly this year.

Oh, poor Livvy.

I'm very fond of her.

Very fond.

Of course her people are not. . .

Then there's the matter
of her brother.

Still, I do think these stories
about her are too bad.

- Stories?
- Yes, she apparently has. . .

some connection with
one of your brothers in arms.

That rather dangerous looking man. . .
What's his name?

Captain Daventry.

That's the one.

There are all sorts
of rumors, you know.

It's too bad.

Doesn't seem fair to a young girl
at the beginning of life

to have her name coupled.

Don't you agree?

Of course, her father
would never hear of an. . .

An engagement?

No, never. Never.

Livvy, you know,
is practically motherless.

But many people
are motherless.

- Lois is.
- Exactly.

We would never countenance
that kind of an attachment for her.

But there's nothing
between Livvy--

between Miss Connelly
and Captain Daventry.

He doesn't care for her.

I'm so glad to hear that.

On the other hand,
Lady Naylor,

I am in love with Lois.

What nonsense.
Where do you young people. . .

get these ideas?

I can certainly tell you,
she's not in love with you.

Naturally, she's pleased
that you like her.

But I'm afraid
that's as far as it goes.

She's spoken to you?

My dear young man,
I don't need to be spoken to.

Captain Colthurst,
I don't want to see you miserable,

but there are all sorts
of reasons why

there can be nothing
between you and Lois.

And one of them is. . .

Now you may
think me dreadful. . .

but there are things
in life one must face.

There is money,
for example.

I mean,
you haven't any now.

Have you?

You're going to stop it,
aren't you?

Captain Colthurst,
do think.

Would I ever stop anything?

Besides,
there's nothing to stop.

I'm too poor,
and not "county" enough

or whatever it is
I ought to be, isn't that it?

Will you prevent me
from seeing her?

I don't know what kind of mothers
and aunts you're accustomed to,

but how could you think that I could
attempt such a preposterous thing?

Lois isn't even my niece.

It would be
for Sir Richard to decide.

I thought he had.

Eh?

He spoke to me.

Oh, yes, I . . .

I seem to remember
him mentioning

that you and he had
had a chat.

You used me.
You and Sir Richard used me.

I'm sure all Sir Richard asked
was that you do your duty.

Is that not so?

And from what I hear,
you failed in that.

Captain Colthurst,
I don't see why you and Lois

should not have a perfectly
friendly, sensible talk

before your regiment leaves.
Now, there must be no. . .

Here's Mrs. Montmorency.

Ah, would you take
these in for me, dear?

Time for lunch, I think.

You'll have things to attend to,
I expect, Captain.

Oh, Myra.

Yes, dear?

It seems that we
can't ever be married.

Your aunt says that
I'm not good enough for you. . .

and I haven't got
any money.

And she said we should
have a frank talk.

And this is it, then?

The frank talk?

It's very hard for me.

The regiment's to be moved,
quite soon.

To Carlow.

I might be able. . .
to stay.

But I'd need a reason.

A reason?

I want a chance with you.

Despite your aunt,
despite. . . everything. . .

I believe
I could make you care.

I can't. . .

You see, you're everything.

I know.

You do?
Then why can't it all be simple?

This is a nightmare.

No one,
not even Marda. . .

Gerald,
don't stand there like that.

Like. . .

and do stop fiddling
with that belt.

I'm sorry,
I don't understand you.

I was so happy.
I was so safe.

- When were you happy?
- What?

Before.

You didn't "stumble"
on Connelly, did you?

You knew where he was
and you went to him.

God, I should never
have let him go.

If you had shot him,

I would never
have forgiven you.

I would have taken a gun,
and shot you myself.

We're lost. . .

both of us.

Entirely lost.

Gerald?

Yes?

Oh, Lois, I . . .

Oh, Lois. . .

The young man.
He seems so unhappy.

Gerald?

I saw your aunt speaking to him.
I'm sure she meant well,

but, oh, he looked
so, so lost.

My dear, I can't bear
for lives to go wrong.

And that poor young man,
the way he. . .

the way he picked up
that rose. . .

I should write to him at once,
or even telegraph.

I should say. . .

Well, I don't know, really.

Oh, Lois. . .

D'you not love him at all?

Who?

Why, Gerald, of course.
Who else?

I'm silly.

I'm sorry.

I just. . .

thought that
I might be able to help.

He's in a bad way,
you know.

Who?

Captain Colthurst.

And you?

Are you all right?

I'm not at my best.
That's a fact.

I'm beginning to hate this country,
you know. . .

down to the very feel
of the air,

and the smell
of the water.

Like falling in love. . .

in reverse.

You have the most satanic laugh.
D'you know that?

Have I?

Oh.

Is this like a bombardment?

No.

Livvy.

He wants to see you.

What?

He's at the mill.
He asked me to tell you,

now I've told you.

Livvy?

Mummy's gone.

I wanted to see you.

Before I go.

- Go?
- Over to Clare.

I'm no good here with
half the bloody Army after me.

How's the hand?

When?

Tonight.

You can't. . . go.

I'm sorry
about your mother.

This time I'll be the miller.

You could help me
with her, you know.

Help you?

With Lois.
You could help me with her.

I'm afraid I can't help anyone.
Not even myself.

Where is she?
Have you seen her?

She left.

You're hurting me.

You might think
of going after her.

Has she gone home?

I think not.

Perhaps the mill. . .

might be the place
to look for her.

Playing with fire,
Miss Lois.

What's that?

You brought them here.

You bitch, you.

I didn't.

Go.

Go, go on.

Go on!

H ush, now. . .

This one's loaded.

Where was he?

How, how was he. . .?

I nstantaneous. . .

as they say.

It's. . .

it's too bad.

I told him he should
put the fellow. . .

He used to come here
so often.

It's queer how one can't. . .

How one never. . .

He was. . .

Yes, he was. . .

wasn't he?

It's from Gerald.

Oh, my poor child, I . . .

You must
get away from here.

Go with Marda,
go to London.

This place is dying.

What's that, old girl?

Oh, it was Lois.

She doesn't seem. . .

It hasn't sunk in, probably.

No.

That's it, you know.

Time to move on.

What?

Better get out your little pen,

find somewhere else for us.

Are you sure?

Sure.

Was that the Montmorencys
I heard leaving this morning?

Practically at dawn.

Yes.

They wanted to get an early start.

The Trenches are taking them in.

Are you very sad?

About H ugo?

Not really.

I keep wondering. . .

how he knew
to come to the mill.

I'd like to know.

There are occasions
when it is better to be ignorant.

Don't you think?

And now I must away. . .

and be wed.

- Will you take me with you?
- What?

On my honeymoon?

I don't know
what Mr. Lawes would say.

But I can't stay here.

Oh, my darling.

Of course. If that's what you want,
I'll take you with me.

If that's what you want.

Francie recommended you.

Francie?
Well, the sly old thing.

And all the time I thought
she disapproved of me.

We shall have some
adventures, you and I .

Yes.

I shall be
just like my father.

Laurence. . .

I do wish you'd stop
playing with that thing.

- Isn't it Lois'?
- She's given it to me.

It's a going away present.

There's an article
in here about Canada.

You know, H ugo says
he and Francie

are thinking of it again.

What?

Canada.

all this coming and going,
it's too much.

That man Daventry
was odd, wasn't he?

Yes.

Shell shock, I should think.

Yes.

Dreadful, really.

We must all learn
to live with our losses.

Yes.

All right, Davey.

Be careful at the crossroads.
Don't stop for anyone.

- Well, niecey. Goodbye.
- What-ho, uncle.

Look after her in London.
None of your loose ways.

- We'll be a pair of nuns.
- Lois. . . here you are.

- Thank you for your help.
- Bye. I'll write.

Make sure you do.
You'll have to tell all the news.

- Won't he, Marda?
- Absolutely.

All right, Davey, off you go.

- Bye-bye.
- Bye.

Bye.