Design for Living Page #2

and three square meals

a day.

So, this is the way

you talk to a man

who wears Kaplan

and McGuire unin suits?

Mr. Plunkett, I shall report you

to your clients immediately.

Good night, sir.

Yesterday it was Tom.

Yes.

Today it's George.

Yes.

Okay.

Hoodlums.

Artistic bums. Both of them put together

aren't worth a dime.

Gilda, no one knows

better than you

how unselfish I've been in all matters

pertaining to you.

You've been nice.

I've been marvelous.

No, just nice.

Gilda, I've been your friend

for five years...

And I want you to remain my friend

for the next 50 years,

so please shut up.

Max, have you ever

been in love?

This is no time

to answer that.

Have you ever felt

your brain catch fire

and a curious, dreadful thing go right

through your body,

down, down

to your very toes,

and leave you

with your ears ringing?

That's abnormal.

Well, that's how I felt

just before you came in.

Yes? How'd you

feel yesterday,

after your promenade

with Tom?

Just the opposite.

It started in my toes

and came up, up, up

very slowly

until my brain caught fire.

But the ringing in the ears

was the same.

Hello.

Hello.

Did you go out

for the laundry?

Hardly.

Why not?

Two cans of sardines,

5 francs.

Madame Poperino,

blackmail, 7.50 francs.

No laundry.

That's fine.

I haven't got a clean shirt

to my name.

Clean shirt?

What's up, a romance?

I'm not talking

about pajamas.

I'm talking

about a clean shirt.

I don't want to go around

looking like a rag picker.

I'm talking

about a white shirt,

a shirt without a spot,

without any holes

that won't fall apart

when you unbutton your coat.

How old is the laundress?

Hmm, about 45.

A young 45?

I don't know.

She goes barefoot.

She's rather plump,

a little soapy.

But a very

interesting moustache.

Very charming, very charming.

Not my type.

Moustache or no moustache,

I need a clean shirt for tomorrow.

"End of Act 1. Curtain. "

Don't read it,

I know it by heart.

You remember where Bassington

has found out

that Edgar was the man

on the fire escape?

All right, shoot.

There's a pause.

"Edgar smiles maddeningly. "

Go on. Go on.

"Bassington plays

with his beard

"in order to cover

his emotion.

"Edgar speaks:

"'I'm afraid, Bassington,

that you are right, but nonetheless boring. '

"Bassington studies

his fingernails

"like a man of the worid,

crosses to left.

"Edgar continues

strumming his mandolin.

"Bassington, resuming

with his beard.

"'I have only one thing

to say to you.

"'Lmmorality may be fun,

"'but it's not fun enough

to take the place of 100 percent virtue

'and three square meals

a day. "'

What's the matter?

So, double-crossing me, huh?

What are you

buzzing about?

You didn't write that speech alone,

and I know where you got it.

Well, if you think...

Don't try to lie out of it!

He was in here, Mr. Plunkett.

And it isn't difficult to guess

why he was here, either.

So, you've been

making love to Gilda.

Now, listen, if you...

I know! 100 percent virtue

and three square meals a day!

Wait a minute.

So you've heard

that speech before.

Where did you hear

that speech before?

Hmm. I see.

Clean shirt, eh?

So he caught you

with Gilda.

It's a lie!

He didn't catch me.

Very pretty work.

True-blue George.

Look who's talking

about true-blue.

I ought to bust you

right in that ugly pan of yours!

Let's behave

like civilized people.

It's quite apparent,

beyond any question,

that you behaved in this matter

as a rather common, ordinary rat.

I'm leaving.

Where's my suitcase?

Or have you sold it

to somebody?

This is a little silly,

after 11 years of friendship.

You should have

considered that earlier.

Do you mind

a personal question?

Not at all.

Are you pretty hard hit?

That's none

of your business.

Are you?

Likewise.

What a pity we had to fall in love

with the same girl.

Charming, isn't she?

Rather.

Nice eyes.

Of a sort.

Well, I guess

we're through.

Looks like it.

Curious to have a little bit of feminine fluff

breaking up our friendship.

Sad.

Quite a dilemma.

I wonder if she's worth it.

I wonder.

In fact, I doubt it.

There's only one thing

we know about her. She's full of deceit.

She's trying to hang it

on both of us.

We shouldn't let her get away with it.

She's a troublemaker.

We ought to put

our foot down.

Right. We mustn't

let her break it up.

I've been listening to your

half-witted dramas for 11 years.

And I've grown cockeyed looking at your

Humpty Dumpty pictures.

Do we give up all this

for a girl we met on a train?

Third class!

No woman's worth it.

Absolutely not.

No more clean shirts?

We ignore her, 50-50.

Fine.

Sacrifice helps an artist.

Exactly.

The sorrows of life

are the joys of art.

I don't think we ought

to discuss her anymore.

Right.

If the occasin arises which requires our

mentioning her at all,

we'll refer to her

as, uh, Miss Farrell.

It'll make the whole thing

more impersonal.

Exactly.

Say, George,

did... did you really sell

my suitcase?

Yeah.

Okay.

Telephone?

Uh-uh.

Answer it if you wish.

Go ahead. I... I... I trust you.

Thanks.

Hello. Yes?

Oh, uh, just a second.

It's, uh, it's Miss Farrell.

What do you want, Gilda?

I beg your pardon.

I see. Uh, I see.

Well, just a second, please.

She wants to

come up tomorrow.

Tell her absolutely no.

Okay.

Uh, well...

Uh, hold the wire.

Miss Farrell's

a little late.

Hardly matters.

I think

we ought to be polite.

I'm going to assume

a very nonchalant attitude.

Don't forget. Nonchalant.

How do you do?

How do you do?

How do you do?

How do you do?

How do you do?

Tommy, you're such a child.

I'm so nervous.

Couldn't we all be

a little bit more nonchalant?

I came here

to make a confessin,

a confessin hard to make

at 11:
00 in the morning.

George.

Yes, please?

Sit down here.

Shall I leave the room?

No, please.

George, dear George.

When I let you make love to me yesterday,

I didn't tell you something.

I didn't tell you that the day before,

Tom and I had...

Did he tell you?

No.

Thank you, Tommy.

Very welcome.

George, promise me you won't start

smashing furniture.

I'm more than fond of Tommy.

I'm sorry, old man.

Quite all right.

Thank you.

Okay!

But...

Tom, when we were in the park,

do you remember?

Very well.

I didn't tell you.

That morning I made a date

with George

for the next evening

in my house,

and I didn't call it off.

And I want to be truthful...

I see.

In other words,

you're very fond of George.

More than fond.

A thing happened to me

that usually happens to men.

You see, a man can meet two,

three, or even four women,

and fall in love

with all of them,

and then, by a process

of interesting elimination,

he is able to decide

which one he prefers.

But a woman must decide

purely on instinct, guesswork,

if she wants

to be considered nice.

Oh, it's quite all right

for her to try on 100 hats

before she picks one out...

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