Random Harvest Page #7

that someday the miracle will happen...

and he'll come back to you,

not as Charles Rainier, but as...

What was it you used to call him?

- Smithy.

- As Smithy...

with all his emotion for you

as warm and intact as it was...

on the day he left you.

That's not much help to me, John, is it?

I'm real, these tears are real,

and my jealousy is real...

and my need of him.

Paula, I wish I could help you.

What will you do?

I don't know. I'll have to think it out.

- You go to your dinner.

- I'll call it off if you'll dine with me.

No, don't do that.

Dear John. Always firm, but kind.

Thank you for the hope.

That is rather nice of me,

seeing that it robs me of mine.

Good night, John.

The law is quite clear on that point,

Mrs. Smith.

If it is proved that for a period of

not less than seven years...

no news of a person has been received...

by those who would naturally hear of him

if he were alive...

then he may be legally presumed dead.

You wish me to take the necessary steps?

Please.

Now, to complete the particulars.

Did you prosecute a search?

Yes, we investigated accidents

that had occurred on that day.

- Without result?

- Yes.

Then I became seriously ill.

I was ill for many months. My baby died.

As soon as I could get about, I made

some effort to return to the stage...

but without success.

I worked as a waitress, a saleswoman.

I studied stenography at night school.

Spent every penny I could spare

trying to trace my husband.

Thought he might have been taken

to a hospital...

or perhaps an asylum.

But years passed,

and I found no trace of him.

Are you employed at present?

For the last two years,

I've worked as a private secretary.

- To whom?

- To Mr. Charles Rainier.

I've studied your petition, Mrs. Smith...

and the affidavits attached.

In regard to the evidence presented,

I have entered the decree to the effect...

that the man known as John Smith

shall be presumed to be dead...

and your marriage to him

consequently dissolved.

Hello, you two!

I wish you'd remember

you're getting married on Wednesday.

That odd little Mr. Beddoes

has been waiting in the chapel for ages.

Oh, dear! How dreadful of me. I forgot.

He wants us to choose the hymns.

We'll go down. Back in a few minutes.

What's for tea?

Muffins, old boy! Terrific!

That's nice.

I forget the words.

Yes, I remember now.

Then there's another lovely one.

Nearly always used.

This, perhaps:
O Perfect Love.

Yes, that's it.

I like that. Don't you, Charles?

What is it, Kitty?

I'm sorry, darling.

I must have been dreaming.

It's all right, Charles.

I'm glad it happened.

- It's better.

- Better?

What has happened?

I've been uncertain.

Almost from the beginning.

Now I'm sure.

It's no use, is it?

I've always known it. Really.

I was grasping selfishly

at my own happiness.

Because you could make me

perfectly happy.

If I were selfish enough not to care...

or stupid enough not to know.

To know what?

That I'm not the one.

Let's be honest about it.

I was letting things drift.

But I never really believed in my own luck.

Charles, you looked at me just now

as if I were a stranger.

An intrusive stranger.

Trying to take the place of someone else.

Someone else?

I know it sounds absurd, but let me say it.

Sometimes...

especially when we've been closest...

I've had a curious feeling

that I remind you of someone else.

Someone you once knew.

Don't leave me, Kitty. I need you.

I'm trying to make a life.

With someone you love

as you'll never love me.

I am nearly the one, Charles.

So nearly that I shall

always be proud of it.

But nearly isn't enough for a lifetime.

It would be too hard to...

I've left it rather late,

haven't I? I'm sorry.

I think I'll travel.

Mother's going to Luxor, I believe.

I'll go with her.

- Kitty...

- It's all right, Charles.

I asked for it, and I'll get over it.

One does, you know.

I shan't go in any tragic mood...

but looking to see what fun I can find,

and I usually can.

You'll probably hear

that I've married some nice man.

I don't know what to say.

You don't have to say anything.

But because I am so nearly the one...

and because I love you

more than anyone I shall ever marry...

will you kiss me goodbye?

Well, we can't keep this up indefinitely.

Where in the devil is he?

No normal man walks out of a big concern

without saying a word to a solitary soul.

Everything was arranged.

Could he have gone abroad?

He would have let us know.

Confound that girl!

What the deuce could have happened?

One minute they were picking hymns

for the wedding...

- Mr. Chetwynd?

- What now?

I'm sorry, sir. It seems to be important.

Stourton of the Lytham Liberal League.

All right, I'll see

him. You talk to Sheldon.

Sheldon, when did you say

you last saw Mr. Rainier?

It was close to dinnertime, miss.

About an hour after Miss Kitty left.

Mr. Charles asked me

to put some things into a bag for him.

I don't know quite why, miss...

but I sort of think

that he may have gone to Liverpool.

- To Liverpool?

- Yes, miss.

It was from Liverpool he came that night...

that he came back from the dead,

as you might say.

Please try to tell me everything you

can remember about that night in 1920.

What did he tell you

about what had happened to him?

Well, miss, it was a wet night.

In November, it was.

He'd been knocked down by a taxi and

carried into a chemist's shop in Liverpool.

Come in.

Miss Hanson.

Please forgive me for coming.

We were all so anxious.

You're not well.

I should have let you know where I was.

I intended to. I'm sorry.

I hate to bother you,

but something very important came up.

How did you know I was in Liverpool?

- Something Sheldon said. I made inquiries.

- Sheldon, yes.

Won't you sit down, Miss Hanson?

You say some important business

induced you to follow me?

Sir Edward Lake, Member of Parliament

from West Lytham...

died on Monday morning.

There will be a by-election.

This morning, a committee

of the West Lytham Liberal Association...

unanimously decided

to support your candidacy...

should you consent to stand

in the Liberal interest.

Did Sheldon tell you of my experience here

about 12 years ago?

Yes, Mr. Rainier.

I came back here at that time...

hoping to stumble on

the trail of my past...

but I failed then...

and I've failed now.

- Nothing helped you?

- Nothing.

Why should I feel

a sense of loss so acute that...

That it's spoiling your life?

No, I'm not being honest with myself.

My life's not complete,

and I've hurt others.

I don't know why I bore you

with my affairs.

You feel that perhaps

you lived in Liverpool?

- It seems possible.

- But not certain.

You mean I might have been

visiting the city?

Well, Liverpool's a big port.

I might have come in on some ship.

Strange. That hadn't occurred to me.

Or by train.

You might have come in

from a nearby town...

or from the country.

- Perhaps on business.

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