Design for Living Page #4

I've ever dictated,

so kindly overlook its correct spelling

and perfect punctuation.

An honest heart

still beats beneath.

Exclamation point,

dash, paragraph.

Well, pals,

you'll be interested

to know

that all London is agog

with my wit and charm.

Underline charm. Period.

Lady Upterdyke,

weight 203 ringside,

has smuggled me into her cage

of trained social lions.

Here I am

on exhibition nightly,

up to my neck in duchesses.

Period.

The play, by the way,

is in its second week of rehearsals

and looks hotsy-totsy.

I beg your pardon, sir.

Hotsy-totsy?

Yes, hotsy-totsy.

And yet, dear friends,

these triumphs leave me sad.

In the midst of

all this pomp and glitter,

I always remember

that our play

was written on that old

Remington No. 2 typewriter,

and on a never-to-be-forgotten

diet of frankfurters.

Sir?

My heart is in the highlands

of Montmartre.

And the... Come in.

And the night finds me

pale and thoughtful, waiting...

And the night finds me

pale and thoughtful,

waiting for the end

of my exile, when the three of us,

Athos, Porthos

and Mademoiselle d'Artagnan

will sit in the Royal Box

at the opening...

Start the letter over.

Dear George and Gilda,

good luck.

As ever, Tom.

Good evening,

Mr. Chambers.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Good evening.

How's the house tonight?

Sold out.

Advance sale?

Colossal.

Audience behaving?

Angelic.

Applauding?

Terrific.

Thanks.

How are the programs

selling tonight?

Enormous.

Busy?

Tremendous.

And what were you doing

on the fire escape?

Cooling off.

And what was your mandolin

doing in my bed?

I must ask you to leave

my mandolin out of this.

Edgar, I have only

one thing to say to you:

Immorality may be fun,

but not fun enough to take

the place of 100 percent virtue

and three square meals a day!

I really enjoyed

that show very much.

How do you do,

Mr. Plunkett?

How do you do?

Oh, Mr. Chambers.

Well, hello. Yes.

That's a very funny play

you've got in there, in spots.

Thank you. Thank you.

How-how's Paris?

Oh, great. Fine.

Advertising going

bigger than ever.

The French are getting

billboard crazy.

I see.

And how, uh,

how's Paris otherwise?

Oh, you don't know

what happened?

No, what?

Well, it's, uh,

quite a story.

The, uh, French government

objected

to showing Napoleon

in unin suits.

I was up against it

for a while,

but I changed it

to Julius Caesar.

I'll tell you something.

Outsold Napoleon two to one.

Just goes to show.

Mmm-hmm.

Anything... anything else

going on in Paris?

No. No.

Well, I'm glad

I ran into you. Yes.

Pretty good play

for the money.

Oh, Mr. Chambers,

I almost forgot.

Best regards

from George and Gilda.

Oh, thanks. Thanks.

How is George?

We're friends.

As you know,

at first I was inclined

to withhold my approval

of the whole thing,

but you know

how much I like Gilda.

It's true I didn't

get to first base,

but lots of other people

didn't either.

Uh, is George, uh, is George

getting... getting along nicely?

Oh, great. Great.

He painted me.

A portrait, from here up.

That put him over

in the art worid. Yes, sir.

And how... how is Gilda?

Fine.

When they, uh, first broached

the project of painting me,

I put my foot down

but Gilda...

How is she?

Fine. It turned out

to be a great painting.

It's a masterpiece.

Looks exactly like me.

It's called Man with Derby.

Yes, sir.

French museum bought it.

Snapped it right up.

I'm hanging on exhibition

on the South wall.

Attracts lots of people.

Yes, sir.

Tsk, is, uh,

is Gilda happy? Is she...

Oh, she's just crazy

about that painting.

Well, I'm glad

I ran into you.

I don't want to miss

this last act. Yes.

My things, please.

Terrific tonight,

isn't it?

Rather.

You want to talk

to Mr. Curtis, don't you?

Yes.

I'm sorry,

but Mr. Curtis is not at home.

Oh, what time do you

expect him back?

Mr. Curtis is out of town.

That's too bad.

Something important?

Rather.

Well, I'll let you talk

to his secretary.

To his secretary?

Yes, to his secretary.

Please.

Hello.

Mr. Curtis's secretary?

The same.

My card.

"Thomas B. Chambers.

London's leading playwright

and foremost wit. "

Come on,

it doesn't say that.

It should.

Hello, you old vampire, you!

You hooligan!

You Benedict Arnold.

You... Shall we be seated?

Hmm, I like your suit.

Thanks very much.

I'm sorry George isn't here.

He's in Nice.

He's painting

a Mrs. Butterfield.

Really?

A rotund but noble creature

from Des Moines.

Des Moines, Iowa.

Yes.

Oh, it's so good

to see you.

Is it?

I've so much to...

To tell me.

Yes.

I can imagine.

Oh, Tommy, if you've forgiven George,

why not me?

We did the same thing.

Not at all.

George betrayed me for you.

Without wishing to flatter you,

I understood that.

I can still understand it.

But you betrayed me

for George.

An incredible choice.

Tommy.

You didn't keep it oiled.

I did for a while.

The keys are rusty.

The shift is broken.

But it still rings.

It still rings.

Does it?

Oh, Mr. Plunkett.

Gilda.

Hello, Gilda.

Hello.

I must get in touch

with George immediately.

I just got back from London.

Dropped into the Luxembourg Museum

with some friends

and big results for George.

I'm glad.

A commissin

for two portraits.

Mrs. Olsen of Buffalo.

You know the Buffalo Olsens.

The tomato juice man.

The tomato juice man.

Both are willing

to pay as high as...

What's the matter?

Is George back?

Why didn't you tell me?

He came unexpectedly

this morning.

He did? George!

Shh. He's asleep.

He only arrived

a couple of hours ago.

He had a dreadful night

on the train.

You know,

his old neuralgia's back.

Oh. Well, you tell him to get in touch

with me just as soon as he wakes up.

Goodbye.

Goodbye. Thanks, Max.

Oh, I almost...

Shh.

I almost forgot to tell you.

Guess who I saw in London?

The King?

No, no, no. Tom Chambers.

Oh, how is he?

Well, I wouldn't want George

to hear this, but if you ask me,

no good.

You made the right choice,

all right, in a way.

That guy in there,

10 times as good.

Max, do me a favor.

Go away!

I know you always had a soft spot

for this fellow, Chambers.

Please, Max,

I've a terrible headache.

Oh, what's the matter?

Anything wrong?

No, just one of my blue days.

Can I do anything

for you?

No, Max, please!

Well, uh, don't tell George

that I even mentioned Tom.

I wouldn't want

to be mixed up...

You know how it is?

It's a rather delicate matter.

And you don't

want to broach it.

No.

Then don't.

Goodbye, Max.

Goodbye.

Thanks.

Why don't you try

some aspirin?

Oh, you're sweet, Max.

But aspirin

won't help this time.

Nothing serious, I hope?

I hope not.

Well, if anything

should happen...

I'll come to you

and ask for your advice.

Will you?

Always, Max.

Thank you, Gilda.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Breakfast is ready.

No orange juice?

We never have any.

Darling, will you remember

after this?

Orange juice

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