So Well Remembered Page #3

Oh, George, what do people do?

What is there to do

when something they've always

wanted and loved very much

is taken away from them,

when they turn in every direction

and there's no comfort anywhere?

Olivia, would you marry me?

I'm not much good at this sort of thing.

I suppose I'm better at meetings,

but I've meant to say

it for a long time.

What I mean is, I'm not just saying it

because of what's happened

or because I'm sorry for you.

Olivia, I love you.

It's slacked off a bit. We'd best go on.

George, let me go on alone.

No-

I want to see it again.

Alone.

The decisions Olivia made that night

were based partly on turbulent instinct,

partly on private logic.

The course of action she chose

erupted both from the strange

lonely life she had led

and from her unrelenting dream

of the life she must lead.

George had no way of

understanding any of this,

for our knowledge of

people is never certain,

never wholly complete.

He could not have been expected

to recognize this instant

when his future hung

momentarily in space

and was then decided, for good or bad.

Dick! Dick! I'm going down with you!

Dick!

Dick! You all right?

Yes, I'm all right.

Channing?

Yes.

Never mind, Georgie.

You can't get him out.

He's dead anyway.

We'll call for help from the house.

Give me a hand up, will you?

Let me know when the police arrive.

There's a bottle in that cabinet.

I've got to tell Olivia.

I know, George. I know.

I begged him not to go.

Oh, George!

Livia, Livia.

I begged him not to.

I watched the road.

When the car didn't come

along the lower half, I knew.

I knew what had happened.

I can't stay here any longer!

I can't stay here alone! Take me away!

Take me away with you! Now!

Aye. Aye, of course I will.

Oh, George, I love you.

I do love you,

not just because I need you now.

I love you.

If you still want to marry me,

I would like to.

Darling, I'll look after you now.

Now, you just get a few things together

and I'll

- I'll take you home.

It's all right if I

take Becky, isn't it?

Annie won't mind?

No, it's all right. Annie won't mind.

I'll fetch Becky, then.

George was unaware of

the stubborn image

that haunted Whiteside,

the image of a road half washed away.

For in George's memory,

those swift days were all one.

The terror and emptiness

of violent death

were mixed with the frightening beauty

and the hope of love.

The same bells tolled for both,

and they were married in St. Luke's

by the same rector who

buried John Channing.

They spent their honeymoon in London.

They saw the tower, westminster

abbey, and hampstead heath.

With some difficulty, George

arranged to have tea on the terrace

of the house of commons.

The shape of the life

they were to have together

began to emerge out of

the misty, tangled pattern.

Mr. Wetherall,

I'm afraid I am not quite clear

about Mr. Mangin.

I've-I've heard of

him, of course, but-

you've been editing that paper of yours

about 3 years now, haven't you, Boswell?

Aye, almost.

Well, I've been sitting

in commons for Browdley

a bit longer than that,

so if I may patronize you...

all right.

Well, then, I'd say

you're keeping your nose

too close to your paving stones.

You'll never understand

men like Mangin that way.

How many cotton mills do

you make it in Browdley

since Channing closed?

3. that's right, isn't it?

Aye, but now you've got me

doing that "aye" business.

You should cultivate

a straightforward "yes"

now you're married into

an important family,

but look carefully and you'll see that

Mangin has a finger in

all 3 of those mills.

I've never seen his

name among the directors.

I'm sure you haven't,

but if you look at a list of

the directors of the holding company

that hold the holding

company that holds the mills,

you will find it.

I didn't much want to bring him,

but I ran into him and

there was no way out.

He seemed to want to meet your wife.

I knew your father quite well, you know.

Oh? If there's ever anything I can do.

Boswell, your wife is charming.

I congratulate you.

Nothing's more important

to a man in public affairs.

I hope Olivia hasn't

given the impression that-

Browdley's small, of course,

and it doesn't really give George

the opportunity he deserves.

But we'll soon be having

a house in London, too,

so that he'll be able to

do more important things.

I imagine parliament must

keep you frightfully busy.

I mean, all the meetings

and having to vote.

Well, it's a bit of

a nuisance sometimes.

Every session also, your

husband starts deviling me

to vote for one crackpot

housing scheme or other.

And regularly, once a year,

some fool introduces a bill

to revise the anglican prayer book.

Well, I have to put a stop to that.

It sounds very exciting.

How did you acquire

this feeling for housing?

I was born at number 24 mill street.

Mill street?

The drainage canal was

right at our doorstep

when it wasn't in the parlor.

Have you ever sailed

a toy boat in garbage?

Well, I can't say that I have.

Well, I have,

as half the boys in

Browdley are doing now.

I just want them to

have better than I had.

I see. Oh, I had a very good family.

We were just too close together.

Mr. Mangin, do you come

out to Browdley often?

I'm afraid not.

Well, will I be seeing you again?

I really hope so.

Then come up again soon, both of you.

As a matter of fact,

why not make it friday?

Oh, that's a bit

- friday, then.

Good. For dinner, if you can.

That's very kind of you.

Thanks, Mangin.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, Wetherall.

Well, I'm afraid we've taken up

a great deal of your time.

At any rate, it appears

my vote is required

to settle some momentous issue.

I'm sorry I can't see you out.

Good-bye.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, Wetherall.

Good-bye. Thanks very much.

George, I'm afraid you shocked him.

Huh?

Oh, Mangin.

Oh, I don't see why.

Where on earth did you get that idea

about a house in London?

I don't know. I just said it.

Was it wrong?

No, well, it certainly startled me.

It would be nice, though, wouldn't it?

Yes, I suppose so,

but a bit impractical for the Boswells.

George, do you know

what's the matter with you?

You're too modest.

There's no reason why you can't be

as important as Mr. Wetherall

or even Mr. Mangin.

You deserve to be. You

deserve so many things,

and I'm going to help you to get them.

I know one thing.

I've got a much more beautiful wife

than I deserve.

George, do you like children?

Aye, of course I like children. Why?

Then I'd better get that

back garden cleaned up

so Martin will have a

place to be in the sun.

Martin?

Who's Martin?

Well, if we're going to have children,

I'd like a boy first,

and if we have a boy, I'd

like to call him Martin.

That was my grandfather's name.

Come on, now. Into your mouth with it.

There's no nourishment,

messing it about like that.

Come on, then. Go on.

Don't mind about the dog.

Eat up your porridge.

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