Mr. Skeffington Page #11

Eyesore? Are you suggesting

that I am an eyesore?

No. Neither are you Lillian Russell.

- Oh, Dr. Byles, l...

- Sit down.

My dear lady, the entire basis

of psychoanalysis is truth.

Seeing your husband comes out

of a subconscious desire to see him.

- A need for him.

- That's ridiculous.

I have no desire to see Job.

And I'm sure he has no desire to see me.

Nevertheless, what I say is true.

Go back to your husband.

- Talk to him. Have him over for dinner.

- No, I can't. He's in Germany.

Ask him to come back.

It's your only hope.

That's where a husband comes in,

when your romantic days are over.

My romantic days over? How do you know

my romantic days are over?

Oh, my poor woman.

Oh, my poor doctor.

Shall I tell you something?

When I was ill, there were at least six

men willing to give their lives for me.

That was before you became ill.

Now, listen, please.

The only person of any use to a woman

whose run has been long...

- Oh, Dr. Byles, l...

- Sit. I haven't earned my fee yet.

The only person who will stick

to such a woman is her husband.

Admirers or sweethearts

never mean what they say...

...and always end up

by turning sour on the stomach.

Dr. Byles, you're revolting.

But it's sound advice,

and you'll be grateful for it.

If you start thinking of any of the others

in your past, see them too.

Ask them all to dinner. You can

size them up, and they can size you up.

It's obvious you know nothing

about men at all.

Shall I make you a wager?

If I wanted to...

Not that I do, but if I wanted to...

...all I would have to do

is just smile at one of them.

- Why don't you try it?

- Oh, you want me to prove it to you?

No. I want you to prove it to yourself.

I'm sorry to have to be

so blunt with you...

...but you're one of a vast army

of silly women. Capital S, capital W.

You're overdressed,

overmade-up and overperfumed.

You are the rudest man I've ever met.

Did you come to consult

a gentleman or a doctor?

I suspect that you are neither.

And I'm not impressed with your manner.

You will be when you get my bill.

Go back to your husband.

And you know where you can go.

- Good morning, Mother.

- Good morning, Fanny.

Come in.

- What a sweet dress.

- Oh, thank you.

You don't think, perhaps,

it's a little old for you?

You sent for me, Mother.

Oh, yes. Yes, I wanted to

explain to you, Fanny...

...l'm giving a dinner party on Thursday

for some very old friends of mine.

And I'm sure it would be

a frightful bore for you.

You understand?

Yes, of course I do.

Why don't you go to the theater?

I hear there are some very good plays now.

All right, Mother.

Oh, would you ask Clinton

to see that the postman gets these?

- Certainly.

- Thank you, dear.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

- So this is the temple of beauty.

- Yes. Many happy days I've spent here.

- What did you say, Jim?

- Nothing, Mother. Times have changed.

- Jim Conderley, as I live and breathe.

- Hello, Thatcher.

- How are you, Jim?

- Fine, fine.

Good. Well, just like the good old days.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

Just like the good old...

My mother-in-law and my wife, Audrey.

- This is my old friend, Bill Thatcher.

- How do you do?

Jim.

- Jim Conderley.

- Hello, Chester.

- Thatcher.

- Glad to see you, Chester.

Well.

Good evening.

Thank you. Thank you.

- Chester.

- Yes, dear?

My wife.

- The maid will take your wraps.

- Thank you.

Thank you.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

I don't seem to recognize him.

He must have been before our time.

Or after.

- Hello. How are you?

- Good evening.

Thank you.

Thatcher.

- How are you, Bill?

- It's Ed Morrison.

- That's right.

- Hello, Ed. Glad to see you.

- How are you, congressman?

- Fine. I thought you were in Brazil.

- In the coffee business.

- I gave it up.

- How long you been back?

- Few months.

You baldheaded coot, why don't you

buy yourself a good toupee?

Those coffee plantations blew up

in my face. I haven't got a nickel.

- Well, what are you living on?

- Coffee beans.

- Same old Ed.

- Hasn't changed a bit.

I wonder why Fanny got us

together tonight.

- I can't figure it out.

- Neither can I.

Nice to be back. Almost 20 years.

- Yep.

- Yep.

Fanny, you still haven't grown up.

- Good evening, Fanny.

- Hello, Fanny.

It's delightful you could all come.

- You remember my cousin, George.

- How do you do?

Fanny, my sweet, how have you been?

You don't know me. I'm Edward.

Your Edward.

My Edward?

Edward Morrison.

Edward? But you can't be Edward.

My Edward had a mane of beautiful,

wavy black hair.

I gave a lock of it to every woman in love

with me. The demand exceeded the supply.

It is Edward.

Jim.

It's good to see you again, Fanny.

You've become very famous

since I last saw you.

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

- Bunny.

- It's been a long time, hasn't it, Fanny?

Grey hair is most becoming to you, bunny.

Thank you.

Oh, Fanny, I want you to meet my wife.

I'd love to, Jim.

- Thank you. Good evening.

- Good evening.

This is my wife, Audrey.

My old friend, Fanny Skeffington.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

And this is my mother-in-law,

Mrs. Newton.

- How do you do?

- I've heard so much about you.

I just had to see you.

Oh, thank you.

Excuse me, will you?

Myles.

Hello, Fanny.

Fanny, this is Penelope, my mate.

I'm very happy to meet you.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

Fanny.

- Chester.

- Fanny.

Chester, darling.

Fanny.

Excuse me, Mrs. Skeffington.

Dinner is served.

Thank you, Clinton.

Won't you please go right in?

Thank you.

She used to be so beautiful.

Simple case of wrong diet.

I've never seen

such an exhibition in my life.

- She made eyes at every man at the table.

- She's really pathetic.

It's a relief my husband can no longer throw

her up to me. She looks every day her 50.

Let her say "half a hundred."

It sounds so much more.

Wonderful.

There's a rumor Skeffington was tangled

up with the Nazis. Any truth in that?

Hear all sorts of things out of Germany.

I hope he provided for Fanny

after the divorce.

Very generously. He gave her

half his fortune. Everything outright.

Indeed.

- I always liked Skeffington.

- Yes, he was all right.

Are you sure it's not

too chilly for you out here?

Oh, no, I'm quite comfortable,

thank you.

Jim, do you ever think of the old days

here in Gramercy Park?

Now and then, in the shower.

I wonder if I appreciated you then.

I wonder too.

Do you think I was blind?

Well, I could see

no other explanation for it.

Jim.

Of course, the saddest thing

about the mistakes of one's youth...

...is that they can never be rectified.

Or can they?

Well...

By the way, Fanny, did I tell you

I have six children now?

- No, you didn't.

- I mean seven. One's away at school.

Roosevelt only has five.

They must be a great comfort to you.

Well, you know in politics, nothing appeals

so much as being a good, solid family man.

And when they grow up,

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