Man of the World Page #5

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It's just that Miss Harper

here was telling me...

about a new place in Montmartre

that's opening up and I thought--

If Miss Harper knows of a new place

in Montmartre that's opening up,

I'm sure it's the kind of place

that you would like.

If Miss Kendall wouldn't mind

going to the opera with me alone,

I should be delighted to--

What do you say, Mary?

I don't want to go to the opera

if you don't want to.

Well, I wouldn't like

to have it generally known,

but the opera I want

to go to doesn't exist.

Then it's settled.

Come on, Miss Harper.

I have a feeling we can get that fella

to make some of that orange stuff...

with some of that iced green stuff,

and turn out something really beautiful.

Good-bye, Mr. Trevor.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, Miss Kendall.

Good-bye.

I suppose I ought to feel angry

with Uncle Harry, but somehow I don't.

Angry? Why? For forcing us

to go to the opera alone?

That isn't what I meant.

I mean angry for seeing

so little of what Paris really can be.

I adore it so, don't you?

I'm not so sure but what he's seeing

more of Paris than people who've

lived here all their lives.

Besides, I'm rather

indebted to him for--

For what?

For the opera.

I should think you'd never want

to finish writing your novel

if it meant you had to leave Paris.

I've had a guilty feeling these last few days

that I've made you neglect your work.

Ah, on the contrary.

As a matter of fact, I've been thinking

of changing my story entirely,

throwing away everything

I've written so far.

Why?

Well, I was writing the life of a man

whom I thought I knew pretty well.

It was all very definite in my mind.

I didn't know exactly

what the end was to be, but...

it wasn't very hard to guess.

But now it's all different.

I may keep the same man

for my hero, but...

I think I'll change

the entire course of his life.

It all depends.

You see, it's not entirely up to me.

But if you're writing it--

In everything we do,

whether we know it or not,

there's always a collaborator.

In this case, my hero has...

fallen in love with a girl

he's just met.

Funny, I'd have bet

a million dollars...

that he wasn't the type

to fall in love at first sight.

But he has.

I see.

It's quite a problem.

Why?

Don't you see?

He doesn't know whether

she cares anything for him.

I'm-- I'm not a novelist,

but I know how to solve that.

He ought to ask her.

Perhaps.

But suppose--

Suppose what?

Suppose he's not

the man she thinks he is,

that he seems to be

in the opening chapters.

I may have to end it

as I first planned it.

If she's the girl you think

you've written about, you won't.

It's getting late.

Don't you want

to go back to your hotel?

Do you?

No.

Neither do I.

But I suppose we'd better.

I suppose we'd better.

Well, at last.

Say, where have you

been all this time?

I've been taking a walk.

Alone?

Not exactly.

Seems to me you've been doing a lot of

walking these last four or five nights.

It, uh, might be a good idea if you were

to take these walks on some other nights...

than when we have to get out

this beautiful little weekly of yours.

There may not be many more

nights when we have to get out

this beautiful little weekly of mine.

I want to talk to you.

That's never very difficult.

Here, Fred. Now, be sure

you get these corrections right.

Let's print the corrections

first next time.

What are you driving at?

Meaning?

I wasn't born yesterday.

You have a gift

for unnecessary remarks.

Never mind my gift.

All right.

We'll never mind all your gifts.

To spare you the trouble

of asking a lot of questions,

I'll try to tell it to you

as compactly as I can.

I'm through.

Through with what?

Through with all this.

With that printing press, with everything

that's ever been printed on it, with--

with the whole works.

You've fallen for that kid.

I thought you had

that afternoon at the races...

when I saw you looking at her

in that funny way.

But I wasn't sure.

Now I know.

I suppose you think

that you're in love.

I believe I am in love.

And I suppose

she's in love with you?

I think she is.

Well, then think again.

There's a fair chance

that she's fallen for you,

but she's not in love with you.

You're different from anything

she's ever met before.

But she's not in love with you.

There's not a chance in the world

for a girl like that to be in love with you.

I suppose you neglected to tell her

who you really are and what you really do.

That's over.

Is it?

Suppose I were to tell her a few things.

You won't have to.

I decided to let her know

exactly what I am.

For a few minutes

you had me worried.

When I think of you telling

that girl the story of your life,

the things you've done,

the way you earn your living,

I'll believe anything.

Well, if it's all the same to you,

I've got work to do.

Somebody's gotta get those papers out.

And if you're not gonna do

your share, I guess I'll have to.

Giving me the silence cure, huh?

See if I care.

Aw, you'll get this silly kid

out of your system.

Everything will be all right.

Uh, Miss Mary Kendall, please.

No, Mary Kendall. Right.

Hello?

Hello.

Oh, hello.

This is Michael.

I'm so glad you told me.

I might never have known.

Mary, I'd like to see you.

That makes it easier.

I would like to see you.

Right away.

Right away.

I'll come to the hotel and

pick you up if you want, but...

I'd prefer to meet you

somewhere else.

Somewhere else it is, milord.

Well, can you be at that statue

in the Bois in an hour?

Uh, the statue of Cupid?

Cupid. In an hour?

You sound like a railroad schedule,

but I'll be there.

Good.

Bye.

Bye-bye.

Before I ask you to listen

to me, I must warn you...

that I'm going to do

a lot of talking about myself.

I could think of nothing

I could like better.

No, you're wrong.

Am I?

You don't know anything about me--

I know everything about you.

I knew everything about you

the moment I saw you.

Do you know what I do for a living?

Of course.

You used to be a newspaperman,

and now you're over here

writing for yourself.

I used to be a newspaperman.

Until I made a fool of myself.

And then I came over here because...

there was nothing further

open to me among decent people,

among my own people.

Did your uncle say anything

about how we met?

Well, it doesn't matter.

I've met a lot of people that way.

I live by my wits.

By finding out things that people don't

want to have known about themselves...

and by getting paid to keep quiet.

I don't believe it.

There was a time when

I wouldn't have believed it myself.

But that was back home, before--

Well, the details don't matter.

I was a sap.

And they made me pay for it.

So I made up my mind to make

other people pay my way from then on.

That's all.

Why have you told me this?

Because I felt you ought to know.

Why did you feel I ought to know?

Because--

My telling you has served its purpose.

You know now what kind of man I am.

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